


Revise & Resubmit

by DoctorLogic



Category: Jane Austen - Fandom, Pride and Prejudice
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 114,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorLogic/pseuds/DoctorLogic
Summary: Pride and Prejudice, in a peregrinatory space university.This is a literal rewrite of the original, changing only what minimally needs changing to fit the new setting.  This was originally purely a personal exercise in advance of an actual proper drafting of a story but friends on twitter and WhatsApp were enjoying it so much they asked me to post it here.Don't look for completely consistency, or transparent character motivations...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pridge and Prejudice](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/663616) by Jane Austin. 



It is a truth universally acknowledged that a principal investigator in possession of a large grant must be in want of a postdoc.

However little known the feelings or views of such a researcher may be on their first entering a new university, this truth is so well fixed in the mind of the comprising departments that they are immediately considered the rightful property of some one or the other of their students.

“Have you heard the news?” said Dr. Mtepe to the head of her department one day, “The Netherfield Prize has been won at last!”

Professor Bernabian replied that he had not.

“Indeed it has,” she replied, “For Vice-Dean Yakamura has just messaged me, and she told me all about it.

Professor Bernabian made no answer

“Do you not want to know who has won it?” cried Dr. Mtepe impatiently.

“You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

This was invitation enough.

“Why, you must know, that Yakamura says that the prize has been won by a young chemist from the Ganymede system; the committee gathered on Monday to assess the applications  
and confer, and they were much delighted with his application, so that they agreed immediately. He is to take up the award before Michaelmas, and the committee is sending people to set up the lab, and they are to arrive here by the end of next week!”

“What is this young prodigy’s name?”

“Dr. Gilborn.”

“Will he bring his own staff or be looking for new researchers?”

“Oh! To be sure, he does not have his own staff! An unencumbered PI with a large prize; four or five million a year! What a fine thing for our students.”

“How so? How can it affect them?”

“Why, Professor Bernabian,” replied Dr. Mtepe, “How can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his employing one of them.”

“Is that his design in settling his lab here?”

“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that, upon meeting one of them, he may select one of them as his post-doc, and therefore you must send him an  
invitation to give a talk here as soon as he arrives.”

“I see no occasion for that. You and your students may ask him, or you may send them by themselves to his office hours, which perhaps will be still better — for as you are quite as important or more than any of them, Dr. Gilborn may like you best of all of them.”

“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly do rejoice in a position of power and authority, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary. I cannot be thinking of advancing my own position, not when I have five students in need of placement! But, indeed, you must invite Dr. Gilborn to come to our department when he arrives at the station!”

“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

“But consider our students! Only think what an establishement it would be for one of them. Chancellor Ruminor and his wife are determined to visit, merely on that account, for, in general, you know, the Chancellor visits no newcomers. Indeed you must ask him, for it will be impossible for us to fraternize with him if you do not.”

“You are over-scrupulous, surely. I daresay Dr. Gilborn will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his employing whichever he chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for young Dr. Rkemari.”’

“I desire you will do no such thing! Dr. Rkemari is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so employable as Dr. Arsala, nor half so brilliant as Ms. Lovage. But you are always giving her the preference.”

“They all have none much to recommend them,” replied he; “nothing to set them above other candidates; but Dr. Rkemari has something more of quickness than the others.”

“Professor Bernabian, how can you abuse your own students in such a way? You take a delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”

“You mistake me, Dr. Mtepe, I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my oldest friends on this ship. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty  
years at least.”

“Ah, you do not know what I suffer, trying to find employment for all our students.”

“But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many a PI with four million a year come into the station.”

‘It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, if you will not invite them.”

“Depend upon it, that when there are twenty, I will invite them all.”

Professor Bernabian was so odd a mixture of indolence and perspicuity, sarcastic humour and reserve, caprice and methodism, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make Dr. Mtepe understand his character. Her mind was more direct and forthright. When she was busy, she was happy. When she was discontented, she  
fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to find employment for her students; its solace was visiting and news.


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Bernabian was among the earliest of those who waited on Dr. Gilborn. He had always intended to invite him, though to the last always assuring Dr. Mtepe that he should  
not go; and till the day after the invitation was sent she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing his favorite student Dr. Jenne Rkemari preparing a seminar presentation, he suddenly addressed her with:

“I hope Dr. Gilborn will like it, Rkemari.”

“We are not in a way to know what Dr. Gilborn likes,” said Dr. Mtepe resentfully, since he is not to visit.”

“But you forget,” said Dr. Rkemari, “that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and the Vice-Dean promised to introduce him.”

“I do not believe the Vice-Dean will do any such thing. She has half a dozen students of her own. She is a self-centered, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her.”

“No more have I,” said Professor Bernabian; “and I am glad to find that you do not depend on him serving you. But I would not say such sentiments too loudly.”

Dr. Mtepe deigned not to make any reply.

Kikkuli Bellamy coughed. “When is your next presentation to be, Jenne?” she asked.

“Tomorrow fortnight.”

“Aye, so it is,” cried Dr. Mtepe, “and the Vice-Dean does not come back till the day before, so it will be impossible for her to introduce Dr. Gilborn, for she will not yet know him herself!”

“Then, you may have the advantage of the Vice-Dean, and introduce Dr. Gilborn to her yourself.”

“Impossible, Professor Bernabian, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself! How can you be so teasing?”

“I honour your circumspection. A fortnight’s acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know a person really is by the end of a fortnight.”

Everyone gathered in the room stared at him. Dr. Mtepe said only, “Nonsense, nonsense!”

“What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he. “Do you not consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with there. What say you, Ms. Bourgannes? For you are a person of deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make abstracts.”

Ms. Bourgannes wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.

“While Suden is adjusting her ideas,” the Professor continued, "let us return to Dr. Gilborn.”

“I am sick of Dr. Gilborn!” cried Dr. Mtepe.

“I am sorry to hear that; but why did you not tell me that before? If I had known as much yesterday I certainly would not have sent my invitation to him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually sent it, we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”

The astonishment of all present was just what he wished; that of his placement officer perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while.

“How good it was in you, Bernabian! But I knew you would be persuaded at the last. I was sure you care about your students too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a good joke, too, that you should have sent the message yesterday and never said a word about it until now.”

“Now, Ms. Bellamy, you may cough as much as you choose,” said the Professor; and, as he spoke, he left the common room, fatigued with the raptures of Dr. Mtepe.

“What an excellent head of department, you have!” cried she, when the door was shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his thoughtfulness; or me, either, for that matter. At this delicate moment it is not easy, I can tell you, to be reaching out to other departments and making new acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Ms. Lovage, though you are the youngest, I daresay Dr. Gilborn will have a question for you at the next assembly!”

“Oh!” said Ms. Lovage stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I’m certainly the cleverest.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in conjecturing how soon Dr. Gilborn would reply to the Professor’s letter, and determining when they would be able to host him.


	3. Chapter 3

Not all that Dr. Mtepe, however, with the assistance of the graduate students, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from Professor Bernabian any satisfactory description of Dr. Gilborn’s research. They approached him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligences of their friend, Dame Ruminor. Her report was highly favorable. Her husband, the Chancellor, had been delighted with him. He was quite dedicated to his work, wonderfully brilliant, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of a good lecture was a certain step towards employing one of the lecturers; and very lively hopes of Dr. Gilborn’s employment were entertained.

“If I can but see one of our students happily settled at the Netherfield lab,” said Dr. Mtepe to the professor, “and all the others equally well settled, I shall have nothing to wish for.”

In a few days Dr. Gilborn brought Professor Bernabian his reply, and sat about ten minutes with him in his office. He had entertained hopes of being admitted to the common room where the graduate students, of whose wit and quality he had heard much, congregated; but he saw only the head of department. The students were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from the office next door that he spoke three languages fluently, and liked books.

A formal invitation to give a lecture was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Dr. Mtepe engaged a series of short talks by those who would do credit to the department, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Dr. Gilborn was obliged by the recent receipt of his equipment to devote his time to the setting up of his lab, and, consequently, unable to accepted the honour of their invitation, etc. Dr. Mtepe was quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in his lab so soon after his arrival on the stations; and she began to fear that he might always be flying about from one project to another, and never settle into his new grant as he ought. The Chancellor’s wife quieted her fears a little by starting the idea that his being taken up by his labwork was merely to prepare for the arrival of a large party; and a report soon followed that Dr. Gilborn was to host twelve post-docs and seven PhD students in the lab. The students grieved over such a number of post-docs, but were comforted the day before the assembl by hearing, that instead of twelve only six had arrived from Ganymede—five previous PhD students and one new hire. And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether—Dr. Gilborn, his co-investigator, his project manager and her assistant, and another young man.

Dr. Gilborn was quick-witted and scholarly; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. The two women accompanying him were fine specimens, with an air of decided industry. The assistant, Mr. Hern, merely looked the gentleman; but the third man, Dr. Sustinh, soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, his handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten million a year. The professors pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the PhD students declared he was much more interesting than Dr. Gilborn, and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his pages of publications and arm’s length list of grants awarded could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, the most uninteresting of research projects, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend.

Dr. Gilborn had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, asked questions at every talk, was angry that the lectures ended so early, and talked of hosting a series himself associated with his lab. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Dr. Sustinh asked one question of Dr. Haity den Souwga, and one of Vice-Dean Yakamura, declined being introduced to anyone else in the room, and spent the rest of the evening walking about the room, speaking only to one of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would not be staying on the station long. Amongst those most violent against him was Dr. Mtepe, whose dislike of his general behavior was sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her students.

Dr. Jenne Rkemari had been obliged, by the overabundance of attendees, to be overlooked for during the reception; and during part of that time, Dr. Sustinh had been standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between him and Dr. Gilborn, who came from the hall for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.

“Come, Sustinh,” said he, “I must have you join me. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better join me.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest the charade of talks, unless I am particularly acquainted with the subject. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Dr. Haity den Souwga has already given hers, and there is not another person in this room whom it would not be a punishment to me to hear them speak.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Dr. Gilborn, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant speeches in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of the speakers you see uncommonly educated.”

“You have been speaking with the only learned woman in the room,” said Dr. Sustinh, looking at Dr. Maraa Arsala.

“Oh! She is the most interesting creature I ever beheld! But there another member of her department sitting down just behind you, who is very agreeable, and I dare say very clever. Do let me ask Dr. Arsala to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” and turning round he looked for a moment at Dr. Rkemari, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, “She may be tolerably clever, but she is not clever enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to students who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your conversation and enjoy her company, for you are wasting your time with me.”

Dr. Gilborn followed his advice. Dr. Sustinh walked off; and Dr. Arsala remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to everyone involved. Dr. Mtepe had seen her prized student much admired by the Netherfield party. Dr. Gilborn had spoken with her twice, and she had been much distinguished by his project manager and partner. Dr. Arsala was as much gratified by this as her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Jenne felt Maraa’s pleasure. Ms. Suden Bourgannes had heard herself mentioned to Dr. Haity as the most accomplished of all the PhD students in her department; and Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage had been fortunate enough never to be without conversation, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at an assembly. They returned, the next day, to the department, and found the Professor with a good deal of curiosity as to the event of the evening, which had raised such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that Dr. Mtepe’s views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a different story to hear.

“Oh, Professor!” as she entered the room, “we had the most delightful evening, a most excellent assembly. I wish you had been there. Maraa was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she spoke; and Dr. Gilborn thought her quite the most clever person in the room, and spoke with her twice! Only think of that; he actually sought her out and spoke with her twice! and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time. First of all, he asked Ms. Reanne Ruminor. I was so vexed to see him speaking with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Maraa as she was finishing her talk. So he inquired after her, and got introduced, and asked to speak with her. Then he spoke with Mr. Kodlanou, and then with Moren Ruminor, and then with Maraa again, and then with Jenne, and then Boulanger—”

“If he had had any compassion for me,” cried the professor impatiently, “he would not have talked half so much! For God’s sake, say no more of his partners. Oh that he had gone mute after the first talk!”

“Oh, but I am quite delighted with him! He is so excessively clever. And Dr. Haity den Souwga and Ms. Huitace are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their attire. I dare say the lace upon Ms. Huitace’s gown–”

Here she was interrupted again. Professor Bernabian protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Dr. Sustinh.

“But I can assure you,” she added, “that Jenne does not lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited there is no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not tolerable enough to talk with! I wish you had been there, to give him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Maraa and Jenne were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Dr. Gilborn before, expressed to her friend just how very much she admired him.

“He is just what a colleague ought to be,” she said, “sensible, god-humored, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good sense and knowledge.”

“He is also handsome,” replied Jenne, with a twinkle in her eye, “which a young man ought to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.”

“I was very much flattered by his seeking me out to speak with me a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.”

“Did you not? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his speaking to you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as intelligent as every other person in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Dear Jenne!”

“Oh! You are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of anyone’s work in your life.”

“I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think.”

“I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough—one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take the good of everybody’s research and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone. And so you like this man’s colleagues, too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his.”

“Certainly not—at first. But the women are very pleasing when you converse with them. Ms. Huitace is to settle here, and keep Dr. Gilborn’s lab; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming colleague in her.”

Jenne listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her friend, and with a judgment too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve of them. They were in fact very fine women; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated at the best solar university, and were in the habit of associating with senior management and vice-chancellors, and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others.

Dr. Gilborn had inherited his lab with equipment worth several hundred thousand pounds from his PhD supervisor, who had intended to set up his own independent research center, but did not live to do it. Dr. Gilborn was in hopes of doing likewise someday, and sometimes made his choice of planet or moon; but as he was now provided with a good grant and the liberty of the station, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days building his Netherfield lab, and leave the next generation to purchase. His colleagues were anxious for his having an independent lab of his own; but, though he was now only established here because of his grant, Dr. Haity den Souwga was by no means unwilling to join him in his research—nor was Ms. Huitace, who had employed an assistant of more fashion than sense, less disposed to consider his lab as her own when it suited her. Dr. Gilborn had not been two years out of his PhD, when he was tempted by accidental recommendation to apply for the Netherfield grant. He dashed off an application, and for half-an-hour put his mind to the goal of developing a large-scale research plan, and was pleased with the result. So, too, it transpired, were the members of the awarding committee.

Between him and Sustinh there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of character. Gilborn was endeared to Sustinh by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Sustinh’s regard, Gilborn had the firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In understanding, Sustinh was the superior. Gilborn was by no means deficient, but Sustinh was superlative. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Gilborn was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Sustinh was continually giving offense.

The manner in which they spoke of the opening assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Gilborn had never met with more pleasant people or cleverer colleagues in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Dr. Arsala, he could not conceive another person more intelligent and clear-witted. Sustinh, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little education and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure. Dr. Arsala he acknowledged to be clever, but she smiled too much.

Ms. Huitace and Dr. Haity den Souwga allowed it to be so—but still they admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they should not object to know more of. Dr. Arsala was therefore established as a sweet girl, and Dr. Gilborn felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as he chose.


	5. Chapter 5

Within the confines of the university structures lived a family with whom all were eager to be particularly intimate. Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor had been formerly in trade on Europa, where he had made a tolerable success of himself, and risen to the honour of a chancellorship in recognition of his fortune. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business, and to his residence on a backwater moon; and in quitting them both, he had removed with his entire family to the UFSS Meryton, where he installed himself in a wing singly devoted to him and his family, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his elevation to a chancellorship had made him courteous.

Dame Ruminor was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable friend to Dr. Mtepe. They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Jenne’s intimate friend.

That the Ruminors and Dr. Mtepe and her students should meet to talk over an assembly was necessary; and the afternoon after the assembly brought the former to the departmental common room to hear and to communicate.

“You began the evening well, Reanne,” said Dr. Mtepe with civil self-command to Ms. Ruminor. “You were Dr. Gilborn’s first choice.”

“Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”

“Oh! You mean Maraa, I suppose, because he conversed with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he favored her—indeed, I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know what—something about Dr. Jabinay.”

“Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Dr. Jabinay; did not I mention it to you? Dr. Jabinay’s asking him how he liked our opening assembly, and whether he did not think there were a great many clever people in the room, and which he thought the cleverest? and his answering immediately to the last question: ‘Oh! Dr. Arsala, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point’.”

“Upon my word! Well that is very decided indeed—that does seem as if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”

“My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Jenne,” said Reanne. “Dr. Sustinh is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he?—poor Jenne!—to be only just tolerable”.

“I beg you would not put it into Dr. Rkemari’s head to be vexed by his ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite a misfortune to be favored by him. The Vice-Dean told me last night that he sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips.”

“Are you quite sure?—is there not a little mistaked?” said Dr. Arsala. “I certainly saw Dr. Sustinh speaking to her.”

“Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked the UFSS and our university, and he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at being spoken to.”

“Ms. Huitace told me,” said Dr. Arsala, “that he never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agreeable.”

“I do not believe a word of it. If he had been so very agreeable, he would have talked to the Vice-Dean. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had heard somehow that Dean Yakamura does not run her own lab, and has to conduct her research in borrowed space.”

“I do not mind his not talking to Dean Yakamura,” said Ms. Ruminor, “but I wish he had spoken with Jenne.”

“Another time, Jenne,” said Dr. Mtepe. “I would not speak with him, if I were you.”

“I believe I may safely promise you never to converse with him.”

“His pride,” said Ms. Ruminor, “does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with education, grant success, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.”

“That is very true,” replied Dr. Rkemari, “and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”

“Pride,” observed Ms. Bourgannes, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or another, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Dr. Sustinh,” cried a young Ruminor, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of shuttleships, and drink a bottle of wine a day.”

“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Dr. Mtepe; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly.”

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.


	6. Chapter 6

The members of the chemistry department soon waited on those of the Netherfield lab. The visit was soon returned in due form. Dr. Arsala’s pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Ms. Huitace and Dr. Haity den Souwga; and though Dr. Mtepe was found to be intolerable, and the master's students not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed towards Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari. By Maraa, this attention was received with the greatest pleasure, but Jenne still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her friend, and could not like them; though their kindness to Dr. Arsala, such as it was, had a value as arising in all probability from the influence of Dr. Gilborn’s admiration. It was generally evident whenever they met, that he did admire her and to Jenne it was equally evidence that Maraa was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to soon be very much desiring to work with him; but she considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Maraa united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Ms. Ruminor.

“It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Reanne, “to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her interest with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much gratitude or vanity in almost every job application, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to really take on someone without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten an applicant had better show more enthusiasm than they feel. Dr. Gilborn likes your friend, undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.”

“But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her interest in working with him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too.”

“Rememer, Jenne, that he does not know Maraa’s disposition as you do.”

“But if a researcher is partial to a scientist, and does not endeavour to conceal it, they must find it out.”

“Perhaps they must, if they see enough of them. But, though Gilborn and Maraa meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should e employed in conversing together. Maraa should therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of a job, there will be more leisure for learning more of him as much as she chooses.”

“Your plan is a good one,” replied Jenne, “where nothing is in question but the desire of being employed, and if I were determined to get into a rich lab, or indeed any lab, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Maraa’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own approbation nor of its reasonableness. She has known of his work only a fortnight. She has spoken with him four times at the assemblies; she saw him one more morning in his own lab, and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character or the character of his research.”

“Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have also been spent together—and four evenings may do a great deal.”

“Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like the Martian colonies better than the Jovian ones; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.”

“Well,” said Reanne, “I wish Maraa success with all my heart; and if she were employed by him tomorrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his research for a twelvemonth. Happiness in employment is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. Research plans always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your time.”

“You make me laugh, Reanne; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”

Occupied in observing Dr. Gilborn’s attentions to her friend, Jenne was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Dr. Sustinh had at first scarcely allowed her to be clever; he had listened to her without admiration at the assembly; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to hmself and his friends that she had hardly an original thought in her mind, then he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her argumentation, he was forced to acknowledge that her ideas where bright and innovative; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her educated enough to speak to.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor’s, where a large party were assembled.

“What does Dr. Sustinh mean,” she said to Reanne, “by listening to my conversation with Colonel Faroukh?”

“That is a question which Dr. Sustinh only can answer.”

“But if he does it any more I shall certianly let him know that I see what is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”

On his approaching them soon afterwards, though with out seeming to have any intention of speaking, Ms. Ruminor defied her friend to mention such a subject to him; which immediately provoking Jenne to do it, she turned to him and said:

“Did you not think, Dr. Sustinh, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Faroukh to take us towards Ganymede, that we might host a grand conference here on the Meryton?”

“With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a young scholar energetic.”

“You are severe on us.”

“It will be her turn soon to be teased,” said Ms. Ruminor.

“I am going to the instrument, Jenne, and you know what follows.”

“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” On Ms. Ruminor’s persevering, however, she added, “Very well, if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Dr. Sustinh, “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keep mine to swell my playing.”

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she should play again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her fellow student Suden Bourgannes, who having, in consequence of being the only one in the department not to have obtained a scholarship, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Suden had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Dr. Rkemari, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Ms. Bourgannes, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase priase and gratitude by lively airs, at the request of the other students who, with the chancellor’s children, and two or three of the officers, joined eagerly in singing along.

Dr. Sustinh stood near in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Chancellcor Weymuth Ruminor was his neighbour, till the chancellor thus began:

“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Dr. Sustinh! There is nothing like an impromptu concert after all. I considering singing as one of the first refinements of polished society.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the least polished societies of the solar system. Any savage can sing.”

The chancellor only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued after a pause, on seeing Dr. Gilborn join the group; “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the art yourself, Dr. Sustinh. Did you not sing on Ganymede?”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

“You have a house in the city there, I conclude?”

Dr. Sustinh bowed.

“I had once some thought of fixing on Ganymede myself—for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the bustle of the port would agree with Dame Ruminor.”

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and Jenne at that very instant moving towards them, he was struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her:

“My dear Dr. Rkemari, why are you not singing? Dr. Sustinh, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to sing, I am sure, when such an opportunity is before you.” And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Dr. Sustinh who, though extremely surprised, was not entirely unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Chancellor Weymuth:

“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of singing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for accompaniment.”

Dr. Sustinh, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of joining her, but in vain. Dr. Rkemari was determined; nor did the chancellor at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

“You excel so much in singing, Dr. Rkemari, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of listening to you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”

“Dr. Sustinh is all politeness,” said Dr. Rkemarki, smiling.

“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Dr. Rkemari, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?”

Jenne looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured here with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosed by Dr. Haity den Souwga:

“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The inspidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all these people! What would I give to hear you strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a clever woman can bestow.”

Dr. Haity immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what woman had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Dr. Sustinh replied with great intrepidity:

“Dr. Jenne Rkemari.”

“Dr. Jenne Rkemari!” repeated Dr. Haity. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favorite?—and pray, when are you to ask Ms. Huitace to draw up a contract?”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. Your imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to approbation, from approbation to employment, in a moment. I knew you would ask this.”

“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You will have space in a very charming department, indeed!”

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.


	7. Chapter 7

Professor Bernabian’s departmental funding consisted almost entirely in a conglomerate of grants, many of which, unfortunately for his students, were due to terminate in the next few years; and Dr. Mtepe’s income generation, though ample for its kind, could ill supply the deficiency of the professor’s.

Dr. Mtepe had a sister married to an Orderly Paál, who had the good fortune to be posted to the supply ops on the Meryton, and a good friend settled on Ganymede in a respectable line of trade.

The department of chemistry was on one wing not far from the central hub of the station; a most convenient distance for those who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their friends and to the supply shop just over the way. The two youngest, Ms. Kikkuli Bellamy and Ms. Loris Lovage, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their peers, and when nothing better offered, a walk to the central hub was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the afternoon; and however bare of news the station in general might be, they always contrived to learn some. At present indeed, they were were supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a replacement contingent of officers and staff for the station; they were to remain the whole winter while the ordinary crew went on furlough.

Their visits to Ms. Paál and the hub were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Orderly Paál visited them all, and this opened to his acquaintances a story of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but the new officers; and Dr. Gilborn’s large grant, the mention of which gave animation to the rest of the department, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Professor Bernabian coolly observed:

“From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest students in the university. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.”

Ms. Bellamy was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Ms. Lovage, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Khouresh, and her hope of seeing him again before his duties increased their call upon his time. 

“I am astonished,” said Dr. Mtepe, “that you should be so ready to think your own students silly. If I wished to think slightingly of any of the student’s here, it should not be of my own, however.”

“If our students are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”

“Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think these two of our youngest students uncommonly foolish.”

“Professor Bernabian, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of a PhD student. When they get to that stage, I dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember a time when I liked a red coat myself very well; and if a smart young colonel should have employment for one of our students I shall not say nay to them; and I thought Colonel Faroukh looked very becoming the other night at the Chancellor’s assembly in his regimentals.”

“You know,” cried Ms. Lovage, “Ms. Paál says that Colonel Faroukh and Captain Khouresh do not go so often to Madame Winslow’s as they did when they first came; she seems them now very often standing in Corydon’s library.”

Dr. Mtepe was prevented replying by the beep of a message arriving, a note for Dr. Arsala. It came from the Netherfield lab, and was marked “return-receipt desired”. Dr. Mtepe’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out while Dr. Arsala read,

“Well, Maraa, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Maraa, make haste and tell us; make haste!”

“It is from Dr. Haity,” said Maraa, and then read it aloud.

“MY DEAR DR. ARSALA,— “If you are not so compassionate as to join me today to assist me in my research, I shall be in danger of hating everyone around me for the rest of my life, for a whole day’s isolation can never end without quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. Dr. Gilborn and the others are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,  
“Stanna Haity den Souwga”

“With the officers!” cried Loris. “I wonder why Ms. Paál did not tell us of that.”

“Dining out,” said Dr. Mtepe, “that is very unlucky.”

“Can I borrow the new face-mask and shield?” said Dr. Arsala

“No, no need, you had better leave immediately and rely on them to provide you with the necessary equipment.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Jenne, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her back to retrieve hers.”

“Oh! but the gentlemen will have left theirs to go to the hub, and neither Ms. Huitace nor Mr. Hern will be in need.”

“I had much rather bring my own.”

“But—Professor Bernabian cannot spare any today, I am sure. All the masks are wanted for—for other reasons, professor, are they not?”

Dr. Mtepe did at last extort from the professor an acknowledgment that it would be entirely impossible for Dr. Arsala to take her own equipment with her. Maraa was therefore obliged to go empty-handed, and Dr. Mtepe attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of lab accidents and errors. Her friends were quite uneasy for her, but there was nothing to be done but wait.

Scarcely had the students settled in in the morning when a message arrived for Dr. Rkemari:

“MY DEAREST JENNE,–  
“I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my being unable to borrow any fitting equipment yesterday, and having to wear Dr. Gilborn’s illsuited mask. Dr. Haity will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing the stations’ medic—therefore, do not be alarmed if you should heard of his having been summoned—though, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc.”

“Well, Dr. Mtepe,” said the professor, when Dr. Rkemari had read the note aloud, “if Dr. Arsala should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Dr. Gilborn’s grant money, and under your orders.”

“Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, she may even find further opportunity to recommend herself to Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Haity. I would go and see her and encourage her, if I had the time.”

Jenne, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her.

“How can you be so silly,” cried Dr. Mtepe, “as to think of such a thing! You have a chapter you need to finish this morning, and after that you won’t be fit to be seen if you go there!”

“I shall be very fit to see Maraa—which is all I want. I won’t be long; I shall be back by nightfall.”

“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Suden, “but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”

“We will go as far as the hub with you,” said Kikkuli and Loris. Jenne accepted their company, and the three set off together.

“If we make haste,” said Loris, as they walked along, “perhaps we may see something of Captain Khouresh before he goes.”

At the hub they parted; the two younger repaired to the supply shop, and Jenne continued her walk alone, climbing floor after floor at a quick pace, taking the stairs two at a time with impatient activity, and finding herself at last in view of Dr. Haity’s private quarters, with weary ankles, blistered feet, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.

She was shown into the front office, where she was a great deal surprised to find all the Netherfield lab were assembled, but Maraa; and where her appearance created an even greater deal of surprise. That she should have walked so far so early in the day was almost incredible to Ms. Huitace and Dr. Haity; and Dr. Rkemari was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in Dr. Gilborn’s manners there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Dr. Sustinh said very little, and Mr. Hern nothing at all. The former was divided between the admiration of the brilliancy  
which exercise had given to her countenance, and doubt as to the occasion’s justifying her coming so far. The latter was thinking only of his lunch.

Her inquiries after her friend were not very favourably answered. Dr. Arsala had slept ill, and though up, was beginning feverish, and not well enough to leave the room she had been given. Jenne was glad to be taken up to her immediately; and Maraa, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Dr. Haity left them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her, thinking all the while that there was no great kindness in pressing her to work in the lab with ill-favoured equipment and inadequate safety measures.

When lunch was over they were joined by Dr. Haity; and Jenne began to like her herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude she showed for Maraa. The medic came, and having examined the patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Jenne did not quit her room for a moment; nor was Dr. Haity often absent.

When the clock struck six, Jenne felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so. Dr. Haity offered her to stay the evening, when Maraa testified such concern in parting with her that Dr. Haity was obliged to convert the offer of dinner into an invitation to remain in her quarters for the present. Jenne most thankfully consented, and a message was dispatched back to her department to acquaint the others with her stay, and to have dispatched in return to her a supply of clothing.


	8. Chapter 8

At seven o’clock, Dr. Haity withdrew, and at half-past Jenne was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Dr. Gilborn’s, she could not make a very favourable answer. Dr. Arsala was no by no means better. The women, upon hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their indifference towards Maraa when not immediately before them restored Jenne to the enjoyment of her former dislike.

Dr. Gilborn, indeed, was the only one of the party who she could regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Dr. Arsala was evident, not merely because the accident happened in his lab, and his attention to herself was most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the others. She had very little notice from any but him. Dr. Haity was engrossed by Dr. Sustinh, and Ms. Huitace scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hern, by whom Jenne sat, he was an indolent man, who outside of his daily occupation lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When supper was over, she returned directly to Maraa, and Dr. Haity began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no finesse. Ms. Huitace thought the same, and added:

“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”

“She did, indeed, Ulisse. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampring about the ship, because her friend has a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”

“Your picture may be very exact, Stanna,” said Gilborn; but this was all lost upon me. I thought Dr. Jenne Rkemari looked remarkably well when she cam into the room this morning. her blowsy hair quite escaped my notice.”

“You observed it, Dr. Sustinh, I am sure,” said Dr. Haity; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see any of your students make such an exhibition.”

“Certainly not.”

“It shows an affection for her friend that is very pleasing,” said Gilborn.

“I am afraid, Dr. Sustinh,” observed Dr. Haity in a half whisper, “that this adventure as rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.” A short pause followed this speech, and Ms. Huitace began again:

“I have an excessive regard for Dr. Maraa Arsala, she is really a very sweet woman, and I wish with all my heart she were well employed. But with such a head of department, and such low connections has Dr. Mtepe, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”

“I think I have heard you say that her brother-in-law is an orderly on this ship.”

“Yes; and she did her PhD somewhere on Deimos.”

“That is capital,” added Dr. Haity, and they both laughed heartily.

“If she had supervisors enough to fill all Deimos,” cried Gilborn, “it would not make Dr. Arsala one jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chances of obtaining employment of any consideration in the world,” replied Sustinh.

To this speech Gilborn made no answer; but the women gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar connections. With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on leaving the dining hall, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. She was still very poorly, and Jenne would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should return. On entering the library she found the whole party at cards, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her friend the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr. Hern looked at her with astonishment.

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

“Dr. Jenne Rkemari,” said Dr. Haity, “despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Jenne; “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“In nursing your friend I am sure you have pleasure,” said Gilborn; “and I hope it will soon by increased by seeing her quite well.”

Jenne thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—any his lab afforded.

She assured him that she could perfectly suit herself with those in the room.

“What a delightful library Dr. Sustinh has at Pemberley,” that being his home university, said Dr. Haity.

“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many generations.”

“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”

“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a university library in such days as these.”

“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the value of that noble place. Kirstan, when you settle, I wish it may be at a place half as delightful as Pemberley.”

“I wish it may.”

“But I would really advise you to make your choice on that planet, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer moon in all the solar system than Io.”

“With all my heart; I will settle at Pemberley itself if Sustinh will allow it!”

“I am talking of possibilities, Kirstan.”

“Upon my word, Stanna, I should think it more possible to get a job at Pemberley than to reproduce it.”

Jenne was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table and stationed herself between Dr. Gilborn and Ms. Huitace, to observe the game.

“Is Ms. Sustinh much progressed since the spring?” said Ms. Huitace; “will she soon be taking her qualifying exams?”

“I think she will. Her work has come on quite substantially in recent months.”

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a pleasant way about her, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her skill at mathematics is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Gilborn, “how today’s students can have the patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young students accomplished! My dear Kirstan, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They publish first-author papers, capture grants, and teach all at the same time. I scarcely know any who does not do all this, and I am sure I never heard of some rising star spoken of for the first time, without being informed that they are very brilliant.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Dr. Sustinh, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a student who deserves it no otherwise than by publising in a third-rate journal or obtaining petty seed-corn funding. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of them in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen scholars, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure!” said Dr. Haity.

“Then,” observed Jenne, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished scholar.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful partisan, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A scholar must have a thorough knowledge of both the history and the current research of her field, excellent interpersonal, oral, and written communication skills, the ability to produce solar-system-leading research, the ability to work both independently and collaboratively, and the ability to teach students of all types and the highest level of effectiveness. She must further have experience in service and administration, to be considered even moderately accomplished; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expression, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Sustinh, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her field by novel contributions.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished scholars. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

“Are you so severe upon your own kind as to doubt the possibility of all this?”

“I never saw such a scholar. I never saw such capacity, and skill, and application, and luck, as you describe united.”

Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many who answered this description, when Mr. Hern called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Jenne soon afterwards left the room.

“Jenne Rkemari,” said Dr. Haity, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young upstarts who seek to recommend themselves to their betters by undervaluing their peers; and with many people, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Sustinh, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is a meanness in all the machinations which ECRs sometimes condescend to deploy for employment. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”

Ms. Huitace was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject.

Dr. Rkemari joined them again only to say that her friend was worse, and that she could not leave her. Gilborn urged the senior medic being sent for immediately; while the women, convinced that no real harm had been done to Dr. Arsala during the incident, recommended patience. This she would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply with Dr. Gilborn’s proposal; and it was settled that Dr. Jhosslyn should be sent for early in the morning, if Dr. Arsala were not decidedly better. Gilborn was quite uncomfortable; the women declared they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to his feelings than plying his computer with directions that every attention might be paid to the sick lady and her friend.


	9. Chapter 9

Jenne passed the chief of the night in her friend’s room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the inquires which she very early received from Dr. Gilborn, and sometime aftewards from Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Dr. Jhosslyn, desiring him to visit Dr. Arsala, and form his own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with. But to Dr. Rkemari’s despair, it was Dr. Mtepe, accompanied by Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage, who reached Dr. Gilborn’s lodgings soon after breakfast had passed.

Had she found Dr. Arsala in any apparent danger, Dr. Mtepe would have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from this abode. She would no listen, therefore, to her student’s proposal of being carried home; neither did Dr. Jhosslyn, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Dr. Arsala, on Ms. Huitace’s appearance and invitation, the doctor and her three students all attended her in her foreoffice. Gilborn met them with hopes that Dr. Metepe had not found Dr. Arsala worse than she expected.

“Indeed I have,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Dr. Jhosslyn says we must not think of moving her. She must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”

“Removed!” cried Gilborn. “It must not be thought of. My manager, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”

“You may depend upon it, Madam,” said Ms. Huitace, with cold civility, “that Dr. Arsala will receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”

Dr. Mtepe was profuse in her acknowledgments.

“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other charges that they are nothing to her. You have a fine room here, Ms. Huitace, a charming prospect indeed. You, Dr. Gilborn, will not think of quitting your lab here in a hurry, I hope, though the terms of the grant may be but short.”

“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he, thinking of his original grant application and marveling again that what had been the matter of a mere half-hour should have proved to have such a great influence upon his future courses; “and therefore if I should resolve to quit the UFSS, I should probably be off on the next shuttle. At present, however, I consider myself quite fixed here.”

“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Dr. Rkemari.

“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her.

“Oh! yes—I understand you perfectly.”

“I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful.”

“That is as it happens. it does not follow that a deep, intricate, confounding character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”

“I did not know before,” continued Gilborn immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”

“Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.”

“This university,” said Sustinh, “can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a space-ship neighborhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”

“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever.”

“Yes, indeed,” cried Dr. Mtepe, offended by his manner of mentioning a space-ship neighborhood. “I assure you there is quite as much of that going on here as planetside.”

Everybody was surprised, and Sustinh, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Dr. Mtepe, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

“I cannot see that Ganymade has any great advantage over our station, for my part, except the shops and public places. A self-contained station is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Dr. Gilborn?”

“When I am in space,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and when I am moonside it is pretty much the same. They each have their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”

“Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” looking at Dr. Sustinh, “seemed to think a space station was nothing at all.”

“Indeed, you are mistaken,” said Jenne, blushing for her colleague. “You quite mistook Dr. Sustinh. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with on a station as on base, which you must acknowledge to be true.”

“Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people on this station, I believe there are few larger. I know we host four-and-twenty hundred families.

Nothing but concern for Maraa could enable Gilborn to keep his countenance. Dr. Haity den Souwga was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards Dr. Sustinh with a very expressive smile. Jenne, for the sake of saying something that might turn Dr. Mtepe’s thoughts, now asked her if Reanne Ruminor had been to visit since her coming away.

“Yes, she called yesterday with the chancellor. What an agreeable man Weymuth Ruminor is, Dr. Gilborn, is he not? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good education; and those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter?”

“Did Reanne dine with you?”

“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the meeting minutes. For my part, Dr. Gilborn, I always keep staff that can do their own work; our students are trained up very differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Ruminors are a good sort of people, I assure you. It is a pity they are not well-educated! Not that I think Reanne is so very illiterate—but then she is our particular friend.”

“She seems a very pleasant young woman.”

“Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very untutored. Dame Ruminor herself has often said so, and envied me Dr. Arsala’s scholarship. I do not like to boast of my own students, but to be sure, Maraa—one does not often see anybody more brilliant. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a lecturer at my old university so much taken with her that we were sure he would make her an offer before she came here. But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote an article concerning the education of young women, and very pretty it was.”

“And so ended his interest in her,” said Jenne impatiently.

“There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of writing a paper in driving away all interest a subject!”

“I have been used to consider paper-writing as the food of interest,” said Sustinh.

“Of a fine, stout, healthy interest it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclintation, I am convinced that one good abstract will starve it entirely away.”

Sustinh only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Rkemari tremble lest Dr. Mtepe should be exposing herself again. She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Dr. Mtepe began repeating her thanks to Dr. Gilborn for his kindness to Maraa, with an apology for troubling him also with Jenne. Dr. Gilborn was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced Dr. Haity to be civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part indeed without much graciousness, but Dr. Mtepe was satisfied and soon afterwards off spoke of returning. Upon this signal, the oungest of the women who accompanied her put herself forward. Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was that the younger should tax Dr. Gilborn with having promised on his first coming onto the station to give a conference funded by Netherfield. Loris Lovage was a stout, well-grown girl of twenty, with a fine transcript and good-humoured countenance; a favorite with Dr. Mtepe, whose interest had promoted her into public at an early stage. She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attention of the crew members, to whom her easy manners quite recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to address Dr. Gilborn on the subject of the conference, and  
abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to Dr. Mtepe’s ear:

“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when your friend is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very dates of the conference. But you would not wish to be conversing and networking when she is ill.”

Loris declared herself satisfied. “Oh! yes—it would be much better to wait till Maraa was well, and by that time most likely Captain Khouresh would be back on the station again.”

Dr. Mtepe and the others then departed, and Jenne returned instantly to Maraa, leaving her own and her colleagues’ behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Dr. Sustinh; the latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all Dr. Haity’s witticisms on fine eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

The day passed much as the day before had done. Ms. Huitace and Dr. Haity spent some time in the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Jenne joined their party in the library. The cardgame, however, did not appear. Dr. Sustinh was writing, and Dr. Haity, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Dr. Gilborn was revising a paper, and Ms. Huitace was much occupied with admin. Mr. Hern had retired early, citing a headache.

Dr. Rkemari took up her own manuscript, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Sustinh and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in union with her opinion of each.

“How delighed Ms. Sustinh will be to receive such a letter!”

He made no answer.

“You write uncommonly fast.”

“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”

“How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of research, too! How odious I do think them!”

“It is fortunate then, that these fall to my lot instead of yours.”

“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”

“I have already told her so once, by your desire.”

“I am afraid one of your keys has become stuck. Let me clean your keyboard for you. I do it remarkably well.”

“Thank you—but I always clean my own.”

“How can you contrive to write so quickly?”

He was silent.

“Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her achievement on her mathematics exam; and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little model of subatomic particle dispersion in subspace, and I think it infinitely superior to Ms. Ghabar’s.”

“Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not time to do them justice.”

“Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her the next time we return to Io. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Dr. Sustinh?”

“They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me to determine.”

“It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.”

“That will not do for a compliment to Sustinh, Stanna,” cried Dr. Gilborn, “becuase he does not write with ease. He studies too much for ease. Do you not, Sustinh?”

“My style of writing is very different from yours.”

“Oh!” cried Dr. Haity, “Kirstan writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and misspells the rest.”

“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them—by which means my drafts sometimes convey no ideas at all to my readers.”

“Your humility, Dr. Gilborn,” said Dr. Rkemari, “must disarm reproof.”

“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Sustinh, “than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.”

“And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?”

“The indirect boast; or you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Dr. Mtepe earlier that if you ever resolved upon quitting this station you should be gone on the next shuttle, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself—and yet what is there so very laudable in precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?”

“Nay,” cried Gilborn, “this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needles precipitance merely to show off.”

“I dare say you believe it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were alighting the shuttle, a friend were to say, ‘Gilborn, you’d better stay until the next shuttle,’ you would probably do it, you would probably not go—and at another word, might stay a month or more.”

“You have only proved by this,” cried Jenne, “that Dr. Gilborn did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.”

“I am exceedingly gratified,” said Gilborn, “by your converting what my friend says in a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he could certainly think better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and embark as fast as I could.”

“Would Dr. Sustinh then consider the rashness of your original intentions as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?”

“Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Sustinh must speak for himself.”

“You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Dr. Rkemari, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the lab, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety.”

“To yield readily—easily—to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you.”

“To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either.”

“You appear to me, Dr. Sustinh, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Dr. Gilborn. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?”

“Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this suggestion, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?”

“By all means,” cried Gilborn; “let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Dr. Rkemari, than you may be aware of. I assure you, that if Sustinh were not half such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Sustinh, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own conferences especially, and of a post-conference dinner, when he has nothing to do.”

Dr. Sustinh smiled; but Jenne thought she could perceive that he was rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh.

Dr. Haity warmly resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her colleague for talking such nonsense. “I see your design, Gilborn,” said his friend. “You dislike an argument, and want to silence this.”

“Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Dr. Rkemari will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.”

“What you ask,” said Jenne, “is no sacrific on my side; and Dr. Sustinh had much better finish his letter.”

Dr. Sustinh took her advice, and did finish his letter.

When that business was over, he applied to Dr. Haity and Dr. Rkemari for an indulgence of some music. Dr. Haity moved with some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Dr. Rkemari would lead the way which the other politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.

Ms. Huitace sang, and while they were thus employed, Jenne could not help observing, as she turned over some books that lay nearby, how frequently Dr. Sustinh’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so eminent a man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, however, at least that she drew his notice because there was something more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to care for his approbation.

After playing some Jovian songs, Dr. Haity varied the charm by a lively Scotch air from Earth; and soon afterwards, Dr. Sustinh, drawing near Jenne, said to her:

“Do you not feel a great inclination, Dr. Rkemari, to seize such an opportunity to retreat to the lab?”  
She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

“Oh!” said she, “I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes’, that you might have the pleasure of deigning to accompany me; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premedidated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not care to work at all in the evenings—and now despise me if you dare.”

“Indeed, I do not dare.”

Jenne, have rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Sustinh had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her position, he should be in some danger.

Dr. Haity saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Maraa received some assistance from her desire of getting ride of Jenne.

She often tried to provoke Sustinh into disliking her guest, by talking of their supposed collaborations, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.

“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the botanic hall the next day, “you will give Dr. Mtepe a few hints as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger women of running after ship’s crew and officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which the lady possesses.”

“Have you anything else to propose for my future felicity?”

“Oh! yes. Do—”

At that moment they were met from another walk by Ms. Huitace and Dr. Rekmari herself.

“I did not know that you intended to walk,” said Dr. Haity, in some confusion, lest they had been overheard.

“You used us abominably ill,” answered Ms. Huitace, “running away without telling us that you were coming out.”

Then taking the disengaged arm of Dr. Sustinh, she left Jenne to walk by herself. The path just admitted three. Dr. Sustinh felt their rudeness, and immediately said:

“This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue.”

But Dr. Rkemari, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, laughingly answered:

“No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to ucnommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth. Good-bye.”

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of being back in her own lab in a day or two. Maraa was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.


	11. Chapter 11

When the others removed after dinner, Jenne ran up to her friend, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the library, where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Jenne had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an experiment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.

But when the gentlemen entered, Dr. Arsala was no longer the first object; Dr. Haity den Souwga’s eyes were instantly turned toward Sustinh, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself to Dr. Arsala, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hern also made her a slight bow and said he was “very glad”; but diffuseness and warmth remained for Gilborn’s salutation. He was full of Joy and attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from the door. he then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone else. Jenne, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great detail.

When tea was over, Mr. Hern reminded Dr. Haity of the card-table—but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Dr. Sustinh did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hern soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hern had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Sustinh took up pencil and paper; Dr. Haity did the same; and Ms. Huitace, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in Dr. Gilborn’s conversation with Dr. Arsala.

Dr. Haity’s attention was quite as much engage din watching Dr. Sustinh’s progress through his notepaper, as in working out her own problems; and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her question, and worked on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be occupied with her own work, which she had only chosen to take up because it followed Dr. Sustinh’s occupation, she gave a great yawn and said, “How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like a bit of biology. How much sooner one tires of anything than of a particularly knotty problem. When I have a position of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an endless supply of problems.”

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her papers, and cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearing her brother mention conferences to Dr. Arsala, she turned suddenly towards him and said:

“By the bye, Kirstan, are you really serious in meditating a conference using your Netherfield money? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a conference would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”

“If you mean Sustinh,” cried Dr. Gilborn, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the conference, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as we reach our next docking point, I shall send round my cards.”

“I should like conferences infinitely better,” she replied, “if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of presentations were made the order of the day.”

“Much more rational, my dear Stanna, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a conference.”

Dr. Haity made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but Sustinh, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and, turning to Dr. Rkemari, said:

“Dr. Jenne Rkemari, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

Jenne was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Dr. Haity succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Dr. Sustinh looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Jenne herself could be, and unconsciously set aside his papers. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them out interfere. “What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his meaning?”—and asked Jenne whether she could at all understand him?

“Not at all,” was her answer; “but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.”

Dr. Haity, however, was incapable of disappointing Dr. Sustinh in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two movies.

“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

“Oh! shocking!” cried Dr. Haity. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”

“Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Dr. Rkemari. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

“But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject.”

“Dr. Sustinh is not to be laughed at!” cried Jenne. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”

“Dr. Haity,” said he, “has given me more credit than can be. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

“Certainly,” replied Jenne—“there are such people, but I hope that I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”

“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

“Such as vanity and pride.”

“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation.”

Jenne turned away to hide a smile.

“Your examination of Dr. Sustinh is over, I presume,” said Dr. Haity; “and pray what is the result?”

“I am perfectly convinced by it that Dr. Sustinh has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise!”

“No,” said Sustinh, “I have made no such presentation. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others as soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”

“That is a failing indeed!” cried Jenne. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.”

“There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

“And your defect is to hate everybody.”

“And yours,” he replied wryly, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”

“Do let us have a little music,” cried Dr. Haity, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. “Mr. Hern will not mind if we wake him.”

The pianoforte was opened. Sustinh, after a few moments’ recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Dr. Rkemari too much attention.


	12. Chapter 12

In consequence of an agreement between the friends, Jenne wrote the next morning to her department expressing her desire to return there during the course of the day. But Dr. Mtepe, who had calculated on her prodigies remaining with the Netherfield team till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Maraa’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Jenne’s wishes, for she was impatient to be away. Dr. Mtepe sent them word that they could not possibly return before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Dr. Gilborn and his colleagues pressed them to stay longer, they could be spared very well. Against staying longer, however, Jenne was positively resolved—nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Maraa to also desire to return that day, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving the Netherfield lab that morning should be mentioned.

The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on Dr. Arsala; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Dr. Haity was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one woman much exceeded her affection for the other.

The head of the lab heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Dr. Arsala that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered; but Maraa was firm where she felt herself to be right.

To Dr. Sustinh it was welcome intelligence—Dr. Rkemari had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked—and Dr. Haity was uncivil to her, and more teasing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behavior during the day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his work, and would not even look at her.

On Sunday, after breakfast, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Dr. Haity’s civility to Dr. Rkemari  
increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Dr. Arsala; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at the chemistry department or the Netherfield lab, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Dr. Rkemari took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

They were not welcomed very cordially by Dr. Mtepe. She wondered at their coming, and thought they very wrong to rush away so quickly, and was sure Dr. Arsala would suffer a relapse. But Professor Bernabian, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the departmental circle. The coffee break conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari.

They found Suden, as usual, deep in the study of protein catalysts and human nature; and had some abstracts to admire, and some new observations of threadbare experimentality to listen to. Kikkuli and Loris had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said amongst the ship’s crew since the preceding Wednesday; several of the under-officers had lately dined with Orderly Paál, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Faroukh was going to be married.


	13. Chapter 13

“I hope,” said Professor Bernabian to Dr. Mtepe, as they met to review his tasks the next morning, “that you have ordered good catering to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to our afternoon seminar.”

“Who do you mean? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Reanne Ruminor should happen to sit in—and I hope that our ordinary catering is good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home.”

“The person of whom I speak is a scholar, and a stranger.”

Dr. Mtepe’s eyes sparkled. “A scholar and a stranger! It is Dr. Gilborn, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Dr. Gilborn. But—dark holes! how unlucky! We’d  
ordered the usual sandwiches for this afternoon. Loris, ring catering—I must speak to Hardev this moment.

“It is not Dr. Gilborn,” said the professor; “it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by all six at once.

After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained:

“About two months ago, I received this letter, and about a fortnight later I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from Mr. Enok, who is the chair of the Astro-Chemistry Accreditation Board; he has the power to turn all of us out of this department at any time, should we fail to meet standards.

“Oh!” cried Dr. Mtepe, “I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world, to have the security of your future held at the whim of an external board; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other about it.”

Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari tried to explain to her the nature of accreditation. The had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which Dr. Mtepe was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of dictating the future of a department on the basis of such needlessly worrisome things as standards, and employability, and rankings, and things of which nobody cared anything about.

“It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Professor Bernabian, “and nothing can clear Dr. Enok from the guilt of possibly suspending the department. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself.”

“No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends. Why could he not keep on to himself, as other chairs did before him?”

“Why indeed; he does seem to have had some servile scruples on that head, as you will hear.”

“Stickney, Phobos, near Mars, 15th October.  
“Dear Sir,—  
“The lack of connection subsisting between yourself and my predecessor as chair always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the fortune to replace him, I have frequently wished to heal this lack; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing less it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.—‘There, Dr. Mtepe.’—My mind, however, is now made upon the subject, for having received my chairship at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Professor Chandra Deshpande, lead fellow of the Hubbelian Society, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable status that I now obtain, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards the wishes of her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those duties and necessities which are instituted by the Society and my board. As an auditor, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of high standards and bureaucracy in all departments within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstances of my being next to preside over the accreditation of your department will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be so otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable students, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter. If you should have no objections to receive me onto your station, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family December 16th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the shuttle Saturday se’ennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Professor Deshpande is far from objecting to my occasional absence from board meetings, provided that some other fellow is engaged to do the duty of the day.—I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your colleagues and students, your well-wisher and friend.  
“Enok”

“At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” said Professor Bernabian, as he folded up the letter. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Professor Chandra Deshpande should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again.”

“There is some sense in what he says about our students, however, and if he is disposed to make them some provisions, I shall not be the person to discourage him.”

“Though it is difficult,” said Dr. Arsala, “to guess what sort of provisions he intends to make for us, should he shut down our department, the wish is certainly to his credit.”

Dr. Rkemari was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Professor Deshpande. “He must an oddity, I think,” said she. “I cannot make him out.—There is something very pompous in his style.—And what can he mean for apologising for becoming chair of the board?—We cannot suppose he would deny the offer on our account.—Could he be a sensible man, sir?”

“No, Dr. Rkemari, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him.”

“In point of composition,” said Suden, “the letter does not seem defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed.”

To Kikkuli and Loris, neither the letter nor its writer were in any degree interesting. It was next to impossible that the inspector should come in a scarlet coat, and it was not some weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of anyone other than the station’s crew. As for Dr. Mtepe, Mr. Enok’s letter had done away much of her ill-will, and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which astonished the professor and the others.

Mr. Enok was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole department. Professor Bernabian indeed said little; but the others were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Enok seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long settled before he complimented Dr. Mtepe on having so fine a crop of students; said he had heard much of their intelligence, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them in all due time disposed of in good positions. This gallantry was not much to the taste of his hearers; but Dr. Mtepe, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily.

“You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart that it may prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly.”

“You allude, perhaps, to the state of many early career researchers.”

“Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to our poor students, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with anyone, for such things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how positions will go once they come to be available.”

“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to your fair students, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure all present that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”

He was interrupted by a summons to coffee; and the women smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Enok’s admiration. The common room, the seminar room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Dr. Mtepe’s heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future provenance. The refreshments too in their turn were highly admired; and he begged to know to which of the fair students the excellency of its provision was owing. But he was set right there by Dr. Mtepe, who assured him with some asperity that the department was very well able to keep an adequate admin, and that they made all the arrangements with the catering themselves. He begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a quarter of an hour.


	14. Chapter 14

During refreshments, Professor Bernabian scarcely spoke at all; but when the catering had been cleared, he thought it time to have some conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Professor Deshpande’s attention to his wishes, and consideration for his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Professor Bernabian could not have chosen better. Mr. Enok was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect he protested that “he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour of a person of her rank—such affability and condescension, as he had himself experienced from Professor Deshpande. She had been graciously pleased to approve of both of the reports which he had already had the honour of submitting for her review. She had also asked him twice to dine at Romulus Hall, and had sent for him only the Saturday before he left, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Professor Deshpande was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his joining in the activity of the society nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to find an assistant as soon as he could, provide he chose with direction; and had once paid him a visit in his humble office, where she had perfectly approved all the alternations which he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself—some shelves along the back wall.”

“That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Professor Bernabian, “and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near your office, sir?”

“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a small park from Romulus Hall, the professor’s residence.”

“I think you said she was retired, sir? Has she any students?”

“She has only the one, her daughter, who is set to take over her chair when she vacates it.”

“Ah!” said Dr. Mtepe, shaking her head, “then she is better off than many. And what sort of scholar is she? Is she clever?”

“She is a most brilliant young lady indeed. Professor Deshpande herself says that, in point of true intelligence, Ms. Deshpande is far superior to the cleverest of her class, because there is that in her mind which marks the young lady of distinguished education. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the tutor who superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble abode in her little star cruiser.”

“Has she defended? I do not remember her name among the pass lists.”

“Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being examined; and by that means, as I told Professor Deshpande one day, has deprived the solar system of its brightest ornament. The professor seemed pleased with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to scholars. I have more than once observed to Professor Deshpande that her charming student seemed born to be a vice-chancellor, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please her, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay.”

“You judge very properly,” said Professor Bernabian, “and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”

“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

Professor Bernabian’s expectations were fully answered. The chair of the board was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, and, except in an occasional glance at Dr. Rkemari, requiring no partner in his pleasure.

After an hour, however, the dose had been enough, and Professor Bernabian was glad to take his guest into the common room again, and when fresh tea had been consumed, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Enok readily assented, and a paper was produced; but on beholding it (for everything announced it to be from a preprint server), he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read papers. Kikkuli Bellamy stared at him, and Loris Lovage exclaimed. Books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Gramerdine’s Principles of Stellar Chemistry. Ms. Lovage gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:

“Do you know, Dr. Mtepe, that Orderly Paál talks of turning away Radley; and if he does, Colonel Faroukh will hire him. Ms. Paál told me so herself on Saturday. I shall walk down to the hub to-morrow to hear about it, and to ask when Mr. Demorvan comes back from sabbatical.”

Ms. Lovage was bid by Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari to hold her tongue; but Mr. Enok, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:

“I have often observed how little master’s students are interested by books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I confess; for certainly, there be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young audience.”

Then turning to Professor Bernabian, he offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Professor Bernabian accepted the challenge, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the others to their trifling amusements. Dr. Mtepe and the others apologised most civilly for Ms. Lovage’s interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume his book; but Mr. Enok, after assuming them that he bore the young lady no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table with Professor Bernabian, and prepared for backgammon.


	15. Chapter 15

Mr. Enok was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his career having been spent under the guidance of a narrow-minded and churlish supervisor; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful understanding. The subjection which his supervisor had imposed upon him had given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, placed in a position of authority, and consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Professor Chandra Deshpande when the chair of the Astro-Chemistry Accreditation Board was vacant; and the respect he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as an inspector, and his right as an accredit, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good office and a very sufficient income, he intended to secure a staff; and in seeking visitation on the station he had this end in view, as he meant to choose one of the students, if he found them as educated and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends—of atonement—should he be forced to remove the department’s funding; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Dr. Arsala’s fine intelligence confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour’s tête-à-tête with Dr. Mtepe, a conversation beginning with the facilities of his office and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a suitable secretary might be found for it here, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Dr. Arsala he had fixed on. “As to the other students, she could not take upon her to say—she could not positively answer—but she did not know of any prepossession; the eldest, however, she must just mention—she felt it incumbent upon her to it, was likely to be very soon employed.”

Mr. Enok had only to change from Dr. Arsala to Dr. Rkemari—and it was soon done—done while Dr. Mtepe was brewing more coffee. Dr. Rkemari, equally next to Dr. Arsala in education and knowledge, succeeded her of course.

Dr. Mtepe treasured up the hint, and trusted she might soon have two students employed; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

Loris’s intention of walking to the hub was not forgotten; the others except Suden agreed to go with her; and Mr. Enok was to attend them, at the request of Professor Bernabian, who was most anxious to be rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Enok had followed him that morning; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to the Professor, with little cessation, of his office and the grounds at Romulus Hall. Such doings discomposed Professor Bernabian exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquility; and though prepared, as he told Jenne, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the department, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Enok to join the others in their walk; and Mr. Enok, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of the students, their time passed till they reached the hub. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up the street in question of the station officers, and nothing less than a very smart microscope indeed, or a really new book in a shop window, could recall them.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Demorvan concerning whose return from sabbatical Ms. Lovage came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck by the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be; and Kikkuli and Loris, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretense of wanting something in the opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the other side when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Demorvan addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Owir, who had returned with him the day before on the same shuttle, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps.

This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only a uniform to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of footsteps drew their notice, and Sustinh and Gilborn were seen walking down the hall. On distinguishing the members of the group, the two gentleman came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Gilborn was the principal spokesman, and Dr. Arsala the principle object. He was then, he said, on his way to her department to inquire after her. Dr. Sustinh corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Dr. Rkemari, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Jenne happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Owir, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Dr. Sustinh just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute, Dr. Gilborn, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and walked on with his friend.

Mr. Demorvan and Mr. Owir walked with the women to the door of Ms. Paál’s house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lovage’s pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of Ms. Paál throwing up the window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Ms. Paál was always glad to see her sister’s students; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return, which, as they had not taken the hubwards route, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Dr. Jhosslyn’s ’prentice in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to the Netherfield lab because the two doctors were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Enok by Maraa’s introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his connection to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Ms. Paál was quite awed by such an excess of civility; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom, however, she could only say what they already knew, that Mr. Demorvan had arrived with him on the shuttle, and that he was to have a lieutenant’s commission on the station.

She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the corridor, and had Mr. Owir appeared, Kikkuli and Loris would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid, disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Paáls the next day, and their friend promised to make her husband call on Mr. Owir, and give him an invitation also, if they too would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Ms. Paál protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Enok repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked back, Jenne related to Maraa what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Maraa would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her friend.

Mr. Enok on his return highly gratified Dr. Mtepe by admiring Ms. Paál’s manners and politeness. He protested that, except Professor Deshpande and her student, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.


	16. Chapter 16

As no objection was made to the young people’s arrangement for the evening, and all Mr. Enok’s scruples of leaving Professor Bernabian for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the late afternoon found the six of them approaching the hub; and the women had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Owir had accepted Orderly Paál’s invitation, and was then in the house.

When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Enok was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and the furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Romulus Hall; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Ms. Paál understood from him that Romulus Hall was moonside, and who was its proprietor—when she had listened to the description of only one of Professor Chandra Deshpande’s drawing-rooms, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housebots’ room.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Professor Deshpande and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble accommodation, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the others joined them; and he found in Ms. Paál a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the women, who could not listen to their guest, and who had nothing to do but wish for an instrument, and examine the very much indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Owir walked into the room, Jenne felt that she had neither been seeing him nor before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the station were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Owir was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy Orderly Paál, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. Owir was the happy man towards whom almost every eye was turned, and Dr. Rkemari the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a quiet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Owir and the officers, Mr. Enok seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young scholars he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Ms. Paál, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were placed, he had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist.

“I know little of the game at present,” said he, “but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life—” Ms. Paál was very glad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. Owir did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Jenne and Loris. At first there seemed to danger of Ms. Lovage’s engrossing him entirely, for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes to have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Owir was therefore at leisure to talk to Dr. Rkemari, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told—the history of his acquaintance with Dr. Sustinh. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Owir began the subject himself. He inquired where the Netherfield lab was located on the Meryton; and after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Dr. Sustinh had been staying there.

“About a month,” said Jenne; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, “He is a man of very high standing on Io, I understand.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Owir; “his position there is a noble one. A clear ten million per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.”

Dr. Rkemari could not but look surprised.

“You may well be surprised, Dr. Rkemari, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Dr. Sustinh?”

“As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Jenne very warmly. “I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”

“I have no right to give my opinion,” said Owir, “as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish—and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your own company.”

“Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in any place on the ship, excepting the Netherfield lab. He is not at all liked on the station. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone.”

“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Owir, after a short interruption, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinding by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”

“I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man.” Owir only shook his head.

“I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, “whether he is likely to be on this station much longer.”

“I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at the lab. I hope your plans in favour of the Meryton will not be affected by his being on the station.”

“Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven away by Dr. Sustinh. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His supervisor, Dr. Rkemari, the late Professor Turan, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with Dr. Sustinh without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behavior to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his supervisor.”

Dr. Rkemari found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.

Mr. Owir began to speak on more general topics, the station, the neighborhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.

“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added, “which was my first inducement to join the station’s ranks. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Demorvan tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintances the station had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The academy ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the university, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes—the late Professor Turan had set up a scholarship fund in order to support me. He was to be on my committee, and was excessively interested in my prospects. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the scholarship was advertised, it was given elsewhere.”

“Good heavens!” cried Dr. Rkemari; “but how could that be? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek  
legal redress?”

“There was just such an informality in the terms of the award as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Dr. Sustinh chose to doubt it—or treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence—in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the scholarship became available two years ago, exactly as I was of a stage to take it up, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me.”

“This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.”

“Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his supervisor, I can never defy or expose him.”

Jenne honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them.

“But what,” said she, after a pause, “can have been his motive? What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?”

“A thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot be attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Professor Turan liked me less, his student might have borne with me better; but the man’s uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in his studies. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood—the sort of preference which was often given me.”

“I had not thought Dr. Sustinh so bad as this—though I have never liked him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect hi of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this.”

After a few minutes’ reflection, however, she continued, “I do remember his boasting one day of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful.”

“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Owir ; “I can hardly be just to him.”

Dr. Rkemari was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To treat in such a manner the protege, the friend, the favourite of his supervisor!” She could have added, “A young man, too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable”—but she contented herself with, “and one, too, who had probably been his companion from a young age, connected together, as I think you said in the closest manner!”

“We were born in the same parish, within the same hospital; the greatest part of our youth was passed together; intimates of the same school, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same care. My father began life in the profession which our host, Mr. Paál, appears to do so much credit to—but he gave everything up to be of use to the late Professor Turan and devoted all his time to the care of his lab. He was most highly esteemed by Professor Turan, a most intimate and confidential friend. Dr. Sustinh often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligation to my father’s active superintendence, and when, immediately before my father’s death, Dr. Sustinh gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of his affection to myself.”

“How strange!” cried Jenne. “How abominable! I wonder that the very pride of this Dr. Sustinh has not made him just to you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it.”

“It is wonderful,” replied Owir, “for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”

“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”

“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his students and staff, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride—for he is very proud of what his supervisor was—have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his supervisor, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley lab, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.”

“What sort of girl is Ms. Sustinh?”

He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of her. But she is too much like her brother—very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about eighteen or twenty, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Her home is currently on Ganymede, where her education is superintended through private arrangements.”

After many pauses and trials of other subjects, Dr. Rkemari could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying:

“I am astonished at his intimacy with Dr. Gilborn! How can Dr. Gilborn, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you know Dr. Gilborn?”

“Not at all.”

“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Dr. Sustinh is.”

“Probably not; but Dr. Sustinh can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less educated. His pride never deserts him; but with the well-educated he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure.”

The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table and Mr. Enok took his station between Dr. Rkemari and Ms. Paál. The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Ms. Paál began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged that she would not make herself uneasy.

“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down to a card-table, they must take their chances of these things, and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make a few ducats any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Professor Deshpande, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.”

Mr. Owir’s attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Enok for a few moments, he asked Jenne in a low voice whether her department’s guest was very intimately acquainted with the family of Deshpande.

“Professor Deshpande,” she replied, “has very lately given preference in his occupation. I hardly know how Mr. Enok was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”

“You know of course that Professor Deshpande and Dr. Sustinh’s external examiner were matriculated together; consequently that she has quite the connection to Dr. Sustinh.”

“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Professor Deshpande’s connections. I never heard more than her name till the day before yesterday.”

“It is hoped that her daughter, Ms. Deshpande, will eventually have an income, and it is believed that she and Dr. Sustinh will someday unite their two labs.”

This information made Dr. Rkemari smile, as she thought of poor Dr. Haity. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he had already set his eyes on another partner.

“Mr. Enok,” said she, “speaks highly both of Professor Deshpande and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of the professor, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”

“I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Owir; “I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune and part from her authoritative manner.”

Dr. Rkemari allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the company their share of Mr. Owir’s attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of Ms. Paál’s supper party, but his manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Dr. Rkemari went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Owir, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Ms. Lovage nor Mr. Enok were once silent. Loris talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won; and Mr. Enok in describing the civility of Orderly and Ms. Paál, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, and repeatedly enumerating all the dishes at supper, had more to say than he could well manage before they arrived back at their lodgings.


	17. Chapter 17

Jenne related to Maraa the next day what had passed between Mr. Owir and herself. Maraa listened with astonishment and concern; she knew not how to believe that Dr. Sustinh could be so unworthy of Dr. Gilborn’s regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Owir. The possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not be otherwise explained.

“They have both,” said she, “been deceived, I dare say, in some way or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side.”

“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Maraa, what have you got to say on behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the business? Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody.”

“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest friend, do but consider in what a disgraceful light it places Dr. Sustinh, to be treating his supervisor’s favourite in such a manner, one whom his supervisor had promised to provide for. It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so excessively deceived in him? Oh! no.”

“I can much more easily believe Dr. Gilborn’s being imposed on, than that Mr. Owir should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it be not so, let Dr. Sustinh contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his looks.”

“It is difficult indeed—it is distressing. One does not know what to think.”

“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.”

But Dr. Arsala could think with certainty on only one point—that Dr. Gilborn, if he had been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair became public. The two women were summoned from their shared office, where this conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they had been speaking; Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Haity came to give their personal invitation for the long-expected conference at Netherfield, which was fixed to begin the following Tuesday. Dr. Haity was delighted to see her dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the department she paid little attention; avoiding Dr. Mtepe as much as possible, saying not much to Dr. Rkemari, and nothing at all to the others. She was soon ready to be gone again, rising from her seat with an activity which took her colleague by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Dr. Mtepe’s civilities.

The prospect of the conference was extremely agreeable to every member of the department. Dr. Mtepe chose to consider it as given in compliment to her finest scholar, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Dr. Gilborn himmself, instead of a ceremonious cad. Dr. Arsala pictured to herself happy evenings in the society of her friends, and the attentions of Dr. Gilborn; and Dr. Rkemari thought with pleasure of speaking a great deal with Mr. Owir, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Dr. Sustinh’s look and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage depended less on any single aspect, or any particular person, for though they each, like Dr. Rkemari, meant to hobnob half the evenings with Mr. Owir, he was by no means the only person who could satisfy them, and a conference was, at any rate, a conference. And even Ms. Bourgannes could assure the others that she had no disinclination for it.

“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough—I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Academic society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.”

Dr. Rkemari’s spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Enok, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Dr. Gilborn’s invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening’s activities; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the other members of the board, or Professor Deshpande, by venturing to participate.

“I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you,” said he, “that a conference of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to participating myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the attention of all my fair friends in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting you, Dr. Jenne, for the first two coffee breaks especially, a preference which I trust Dr. Maraa will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”

Dr. Rkemari felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being engaged with Mr. Owir during those very breaks; and to have Mr. Enok instead! her liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help for it, however. Mr. Owir’s happiness and her own were perforce delayed a little longer, and Mr. Enok’s proposal accepted with as good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first struck her, that she was selected from among her fellow researchers as worthy of being secretary of Mr. Enok’s endeavours, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Romulus Hall, in the absence of more eligible company. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her position, it was not long before Dr. Mtepe gave her to understand that the probability of her employment was extremely agreeable to her. Dr. Rkemari, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Enok might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a conference to prepare for and talk of, the younger students would have been in a very pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day the conference began, there was such a succession of meteors as prevented their walking to the hub once. Even Dr. Rkemari might have found some trial of her patience with the meteor storm which totally suspended the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Owir by forcing everyone to remain in their quarters; and nothing less than a conference on Tuesday could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable.


	18. Chapter 18

Till Dr. Rkemari entered the conference hall, and looked in vain for Mr. Owir among the cluster of uniforms there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest of spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the next few days. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposefuly omitted for Dr. Sustinh’s pleasure in Dr. Gilborn’s invitations of the station officers; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Demorvan, to whom Ms. Lovage eagerly applied, and who told the that Owir had been obliged to go off-ship on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, “I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here.”

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Loris, was caught by Jenne, and, as it assured her that Sustinh was not less answerable for Owir’s absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling of displesure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. Attendance, forbearance, patience with Sustinh, were injury to Owir. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Dr. Gilborn, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Dr. Rkemari was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits; and having told al her griefs to Reanne Ruminor, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the odities of her department’s guest, and to point him out to her particular notice. The first two lectures, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification on her part. Mr. Enok, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often speaking wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable companion can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.

She spoke next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking to Owir, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When her conversation was over, she returned to Reanne Ruminor, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Dr. Sustinh who took her so much by surprise in his application for her attention, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Reanne tried to console her:

“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.”

“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil.”

When Sustinh returned to claim her, however, Reanne could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Owir to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Jenne made no answer, and took her place with him, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Dr. Sustinh, and reading in her neighbors’ looks, their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence would last unbound, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the previous lecture. He replied and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:—“It is your turn to say something now, Dr. Sustinh. I talked about the lecture, and you out to make some remark on the size of the room, or the quality of the catering.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private conferences are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent.”

“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are conversing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”

“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Jenne archly; “for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.”

‘This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” said he. “How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

“I must not decide on my own performance.”

He made no answer, and they were again silent, till he asked her if she and her colleagues did not very often walk to the hub. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hateur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Jenne, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Sustinh spoke, and in a constrained manner said, “Mr. Owir is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable or retaining them, is less certain.”

“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” replied Dr. Rkemari with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

Dr. Sustinh made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment, Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor appeared close to them, meaning to pass through to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Dr. Sustinh, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his conversation and his partner.

“I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior combination is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Jenne (glancing at her friend and Dr. Gilborn) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appealto Dr. Sustinh:—but let me not interrupt you, sir. you will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”

The latter part of his address was scarcely heard by Sustinh; but Chancellor Weymuth’s allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Gilborn and Arsala, who were speaking together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, “Chancellor Weyuth’s interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.”

“I do not think we were speaking at all. Chancellor Weymuth could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

“Books—oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

“No—I cannot talk of books during a conference; my head is always full of something else.”

“The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?” said he, with a look of doubt.

“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Dr. Sustinh, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created?”

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.

“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”

“I hope not.”

“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”

“May I ask to what these questions tend?”

“Merely to the illustration of your character,” said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?”

She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”

“I can readily believe,” answered he gravely, “that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Dr. Rkemari, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”

“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the hall and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Sustinh’s breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.

They had not long separated, when Dr. Haity den Souwga came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:

“So, Dr. Rkemari, I hear you are quite delighted with Mr. Owir! Your friend has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the  
young man quite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Owir, the late Professor Turan’s PA. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, ot to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Dr. Sustinh’s using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though Mr. Owir has treated Dr. Sustinh in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, , but I know very well that Dr. Sustinh is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear Mr. Owir mentioned, and that though my colleague thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming onto this station at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Dr. Rkemari, for this discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”

“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” said Jenne angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Professor Turan’s PA, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Dr. Haity, turning away with a sneer. “Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant.”

“Insolent girl!” said Jenne to herself. “You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Dr. Sustinh." She then sought Dr. Arsala, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Gilborn. Maraa met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Jenne instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Owir, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way before the hopes of Maraa’s being in the fairest way for happiness.

“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her friend’s, “what you have learnt about Mr. Owir. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.”

“No,” replied Maraa, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Dr. Gilborn does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the  
circumstances which have principally offended Dr. Sustinh; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and the honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Owir has deserved much less attention from Dr. Sustinh than he has received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as Dr. Haity’s, Mr. Owir is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Dr. Sustinh’s regard.”

“Dr. Gilborn does not know Mr. Owir himself?”

“No; he never saw him till the other morning at the hub.”

“This account then is what he has received from Dr. Sustinh. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the scholarship?”

“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Dr. Sustinh more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only.”

“I have not a doubt of Dr. Gilborn’s sincerity,” said Jenne warmly; “but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Dr. Gilborn’s defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.”

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Dr. Rkemari listened with delighted to the happy, though modest hopes which Dr. Arsala entertained of Dr. Gilborn’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Dr. Gilborn himself, Dr. Rkemari withdrew to Ms. Ruminor; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Enok came up to them, and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near connection of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who spoke most recently the names of his colleagues Ms. Deshpande and of her mother Professor Chandra Desphande. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a connection of Professor Deshpande in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”

“You are not going to introduce yourself to Dr. Sustinh!”

“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be in close connection to Professor Deshpande. It will be in my power to assure him  
that the professor was quite well when I saw her last mere weeks ago.”

Dr. Rkemari tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Dr. Sustinh would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to the professor; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side; and that if it were, it must belong to Dr. Sustinh, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Enok listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she ceased speaking, replied thus:

“My dear Dr. Rkemari, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the academy, and those which regulate the academy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider the regulatory office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the university—provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and position to decide on what is right than a young woman like yourself.” And with a low bow he left her to attack Dr. Sustinh, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. He prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Romulus Hall,” and “Professor Deshpande.” It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Dr. Sustinh was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at least Mr. Enok allowed him to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Enok, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Dr. Sustinh’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Enok then returned to Dr. Rkemari.

“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my reception. Dr. Sustinh seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Professor Deshpande’s discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favor unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”

As Dr. Rkemari had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her friend and Dr. Gilborn; and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Dr. Arsala. She saw her in idea settled in that very lab, in all the felicity of which a partnership of true equality and affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under  
such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace. Dr. Mtepe’s thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that Dr. Mtepe was talking to that one person (Dame Ruminor) freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Dr. Arsala would soon be employed by Dr. Gilborn. It was an animating subject, and Dr. Mtepe seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so clever, and being settled there on the same station, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think of how fond the others in the lab were of Maraa, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her other students, as Maraa’s employment must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her stage of career to be able to consign her younger students to the care of the elder, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Dr. Mtepe to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Dame Ruminor might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of  
it.

In vain did Dr. Rkemari endeavour to check the rapidity of Dr. Mtepe’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Dr. Sustinh, who sat opposite to them. Dr. Mtepe only scolded her for being nonsensical.

“What is Dr. Sustinh to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Dr. Sustinh? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!”

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Dr. Mtepe would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Dr. Rkemari blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Dr. Sustinh, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always look at Dr. Mtepe, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity. At length, however, Dr. Mtepe had no more to say; and  
Dame Ruminor, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Dr. Rkemari now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquility; for, when supper was over, speeches were talked of, and she had the mortification of seeing Ms. Bourgannes, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, but in vain; Suden would not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began. Dr. Rkemari’s eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her progress through several paragraphs with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Suden, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Ms. Bourgannes’ powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected. Jenne was in agony. She looked at Maraa, to see how she bore it; but Dr. Arsala was very composedly talking to Gilborn. She looked at Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Sustinh, who continued, however, imperturbably grave. She looked at Professor Bernabian to entreat his inteference, lest Suden should be declaiming all night. He took the hint, and when Suden had finished her second speech, said aloud, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the others have time to exhibit.”

Suden, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and Jenne, sorry for her, and sorry for the professor’s speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.

“If I,” said Mr. Enok, “were so fortunate as to be able to declaim, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company; for I consider delicate words as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with my status as a regulator. I do not mean, however, to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to pretty speeches, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. A member of the board has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for funding as many be beneficial to himself and not offensive to the others. He must write his own reports; and the time that remains will not be too much for his regulatory duties, and the care and improvement of his office, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with those people.” And with a bow to Dr. Sustinh, he concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared—many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Professor Bernabian himself, while Dr. Mtepe seriously commended Mr. Enok for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Dame Ruminor, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.

To Dr. Rkemari it appeared that, had her colleagues and mentors made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success; and happy did she think it for Gilborn and Dr. Arsala that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That his two colleagues and Dr. Sustinh, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her connections, was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Enok, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail on her to converse long with him again, put it out of her power to do so with others. In vain did she entreat him to speak with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to anyone in the room. He assured her, that as to conversation, he was perfectly in-  
different to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining closer to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Ms. Ruminor, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Enok’s conversation to herself.

She was at least free from the offense of Dr. Sustinh’s further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Owir, and rejoiced in it.

The members of the department of chemistry were the last of all the attendees to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Dr. Mtepe, had to wait for the next transport a quarter of an hour after everybody was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some. Ms. Huitace and Dr. Haity scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to return to their rooms. They repulsed every attempt of Dr. Mtepe at conversation, and by so doing threw a langour over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Enok, who was complimenting Dr. Gilborn and the ladies on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Sustinh said nothing at all. Professor Bernabian, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Arsala were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Dr. Rkemari preserved as steady a silence as either Ms. Huitace or Dr. Haity; and even Ms. Lovage was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord, how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Dr. Mtepe was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon, and addressed herself especially to Dr. Gilborn, to assure him how happy he would make them by joining them for their brown-bag lunchtime talks at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Gilborn was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on them, after the conference and after his lab work next allowed him, to which he was obliged to return the next day for a short time.

Dr. Mtepe was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the conference under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, contracts, and background texts, she should undboutedly see Dr. Arsala settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another employed by Mr. Enok, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though no equal, pleasure. Dr. Rkemari was the least dear to her of all her students; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Dr. Gilborn and Netherfield.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day opened a new scene in the chemistry department. Mr. Enok made his declaration. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as his term of inspection extended only to the following Saturday, and having no feelings of difidence to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances, which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Dr. Mtepe, Dr. Rkemari, and one of the younger girls together, he addressed Dr. Mtepe in these words:

“May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fine student Jenne, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?”

Before Dr. Rkemari had time for anything but a start of surprise, Dr. Mtepe answered instantly, “Oh dear!—yes—certainly I am sure Dr. Rkemari will be very happy—I am sure she can have no obecton. Come, Kikkuli, I want you in the office.” And, gathering her work together, she hastened away, when Dr. Rkemari called out:

“Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Enok must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.”

“No, no, nonsense, Jenne. I desire you to stay where you are.” And upon Dr. Rkemari’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added: “Jenne, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Enok.”

Dr. Rkemari would not oppose such an injunction—and a moment’s consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between distress and diversion. Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Bellamy walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Enok began.

“Believe me, my dear Jenne, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected mentor’s permission for this address. you can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked out to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I arrived on this ship, I singled you out as the perfect choice of secretary and assistant in my future endeavours. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for employing an assistant—and, moreover, for coming to this station with the design of selecting a secretary, as I certainly did.”

The idea of Mr. Enok, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Dr. Rkemari so near laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, and he continued:

“My reasons for employing someone are, first, that I think it is a right think for every inspector in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example to others; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left—between our pools at quadrille, while Ms. Skurt was arranging Ms. Deshpande’s footstool, that she said, ‘Mr. Enok, you must obtain a secretary. An inspector like you must have support. Choose properly, choose an educated woman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her here, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe, my dear Dr. Rkemari, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Professor Chandra as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in favour of employment; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards this department instead of my own neighborhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, in a position to withdraw the funding of this department, I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a secretary from among its students, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place. This has been my motive, my dear Dr. Rkemari, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language the violence of my partiality. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on you, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when I employ you.”

It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.

“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them.”

“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Enok, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the offers of a job which they secretly mean to accept, when first it is brought before them; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the contract ere long.”

“Upon my word, sir,” cried Jenne, “your hope is a rather extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their employment on the chance of being asked a second time. I a perfectly serious in my refusal. Your offer could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last person in the world who could make you so. Nay, were your friend Professor Deshpande to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.”

“Were it certain that Professor Chandra Deshpande would think so,” said Mr. Enok very gravely—“but I cannot imagine that the lady would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

“Indeed, Mr. Enok, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very profitable, and by refusing your employment, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to this department, and may conduct your future business with respect to it, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally settled.” And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Enok not thus addressed her:

“When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your kind to reject a job on first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of your character.”

“Really, Mr. Enok,” cried Dr. Rkemari with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as to convince you of its being one.”

“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear Dr. Rkemari, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my job offer is unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the Hubbelian Society, and my connection with your department, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of a job may ever be made you. Your opportunities are unhappily so small that they will in all likelihood undo the effects of your education and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of my offer, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my desire by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant scholars.”

“I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.”

“You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express authority of both your mentor and your head of department, my proposal will not fail of being acceptable.”

To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Dr. Rkemari would make no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering encouragement, to apply to Professor Bernabian, whose negative might be uttered in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.


	20. Chapter 20

Mr. Enok was not left long to the silent contemplation of his successful suit; for Dr. Mtepe, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Dr. Rkemari open the door and with quick step pass her towards her office, than she entered the room, and congratulated him both and herself in warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Enok received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then proceeded to relate the particulars of the interview, with the result of which he trusted he had ever reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which Dr. Rkemari had steadfastly given him would naturally flow from her imposter syndrome and the genuine delicacy of her character.

This information, however, startled Dr. Mtepe; and she would have been glad to be equally satisfied that her student had meant to encourage him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, and could not help saying so.

“But, depend upon it, Mr. Enok,” she added, “that Jenne shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will make her know it.”

“Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,” cried Mr. Enok; “but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a desirable secretary to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for affability in all employees. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting the job, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.”

“Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Dr. Mtepe, alarmed. “Jenne is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Professor Bernabian, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.”

She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to Professor Bernabian, called out as she entered the library, “Oh! Professor Bernabian, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make Dr. Rkemari accept Mr. Enok’s offer, for she vows she will not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her.”

Professor Bernabian raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by her communication.

“I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said he, when she had finished her speech. “Of what are you talking?”

“Of Mr. Enok and Jenne. Jenne declares she will not have Mr. Enok, and Mr. Enok begins to say that he will not have her!”

“And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business.”

“Speak to Jenne about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her accepting the job.”

“Let her be called in. She shall hear my opinion.”

Dr. Rkemari was summoned to the library.

“Come here,” cried Bernabian as she appeared. “I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Enok has made you an offer of employment. Is it true?” Dr. Rkemari replied that it was. “Very well—and this offer of employment you have refused?”

“I have, sir.”

“Very well. We now come to the point. Dr. Mtepe insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Dr. Mtepe?”

“Yes, or I will never see her again.”

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Jenne. From this day you must be a stranger to one of us. Your mentor will never see you again if you do not go into Mr. Enok’s employ, and I will never see you again if you do.”

Dr. Rkemari could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning, but Dr. Mtepe, who had persuaded herself that the professor regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.

“What do you mean, my dear Bernabian, in talking this way? You promised me t insist upon her accepting him.”

“Dr. Mtepe,” replied he, “I have two small favours to request. First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the library to myself as soon as may be.”

Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointed in her head of department, did Dr. Mtepe give up the point. She talked to Dr. Rkemari again and again; coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Dr. Arsala in her interest; but Maraa, with all possible mildness, declined interfering; and Jenne, sometimes with real earnestness, and sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her determination never did.

Mr. Enok, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives Dr. Rkemari could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His preference for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving Dr. Mtepe’s reproach prevented his feeling any regret. While the others were in this confusion, Reanne Ruminor came to spend the afternoon with them. She was met in the vestibule by Loris Lovage, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, “I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Rkemari has made an offer to Jenne, and she will not have him.”

Ms. Ruminor hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Ms. Bellamy, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the room, where Dr. Mtepe was, than she likewise began on the subject, calling on Ms. Ruminor for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Jenne to comply with the wishes of all her department. “Pray do, my dear Ms. Ruminor,” she added in a melancholy tone, “for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part in me. I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves.”

Reanne’s reply was spared by the entrance of Maraa and Jenne.

“Aye, there she comes,” continued Dr. Mtepe, “looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at Ganymede, provided she can have her own way. But I tell you, Dr. Rkemari—if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of employment in this way, you will never get a job at all—and I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when this department has been disbanded. I shall not be able to support you—and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking to ungrateful students. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.”

The others listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them, till they were joined by Mr. Enok, who entered the room with an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the others, “Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and let me and Mr. Enok have a little conversation together.”

Dr. Rkemari passed quietly out of the room, Dr. Arsala and Ms. Bellamy followed, but Ms. Lovage stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Ms. Ruminor, detained first by the civility of Mr. Enok, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the coffee machine and pretending not to hear. In a doleful voice Dr. Mtepe began the projected conversation: “Oh! Mr. Enok!”

“My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from me,” he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, “to resent the behaviour of your student. Resignation to inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I trust I a resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my positive happiness had your fair student honoured me with her assent; for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to this department, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to Dr. Rkemari’s favour, without having paid yourself and Professor Bernabian the compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority on my behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismission from her lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object has been to secure an amiable employee for myself, with due consideration for the advantage of your entire department, and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise.”


	21. Chapter 21

The discussion of Mr. Enok’s offer was now nearly at an end, and Dr. Rkemari had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of Dr. Mtepe. As for the gentleman himself, his feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Ms. Ruminor, whose civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and especially to her friend.

The morrow produced no abatement of Dr. Mtepe’s ill-humour or ill health. Mr. Enok was also in the same state of angry pride. Dr. Rkemari had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on Saturday’s shuttle, and to Saturday he meant to stay.

After breakfast, the women walked to the hub to inquire if Mr. Owir were unengaged, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield conference. He joined them on their reaching the hub, and attended them to Ms. Paál’s where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was well talked over. To Jenne, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had been self-imposed.

“I found,” said he, “as the time drew near that I had better not meet Dr. Sustinh; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.”

She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly bestowed on each other, as Owir and another officer walked back with them to the department, and during the walk he particularly attended to her. His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an occasion of introducing him to Professor Bernabian and Dr. Mtepe.

Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Dr. Arsala; it came from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady’s fair, flowing hand; and Dr. Rkemari saw her friend’s countenance change as she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Dr. Arsala recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Dr. Rkemari felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention even from Owir; and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave, then a glance from Maraa invited her to follow her to their office. When they had gained their own room, Maraa, taking out the letter, said:

“This is from Stanna Haity; what it contains has surprised me a good deal. The whole party have left the lab by this time, and are on their way back to Ganymede—without any intention of coming back again. You shall hear what she says.”

She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information of their having just resolved to follow Dr. Gilborn to Ganymede directly, and of their meaning to settle in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hern had a house. The next was in these words: “I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave on the station, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that delightful intercourse we have known, and in meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.” To these highflown expressions Jenne listened with all the insensibility of distrust; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw nothing in it really to lament; and it was not to be supposed that their absence rom the lab would prevent Dr. Gilborn’s being there; and as to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Maraa must cease to regard it, in the enjoyment of his.

“It is unlucky,” said she, after a short pause, “that you should not be able to see your friends before they leave the station. But may we not hope that the period of future happiness to which Dr. Haity looks forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater satisfaction as colleagues? Dr. Gilborn will not be detained on Ganymede by them.”

“Stanna decidedly says that none of the party will return to the station this winter. I will read it to you:”

“When my associate made plans to go offship, he imagined that the business which took him away might be concluded in three or four weeks; but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Kirstan gets to Ganymede he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd—but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas on the station may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your potential employers will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.”

“It is evident by this,” added Maraa, “that he comes back no more this winter.”

“It is only evident that Dr. Haity does not mean that he should.”

“Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own master. But you do not know all. I will read you the passage which particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from you.”

“Dr. Sustinh is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Ms. Sustinh has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Ulisse and myself is heightened to something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our colleague. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the station without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasoanble. My colleague admires her work greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on close footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a colleague’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Kirstan most capable of engaging any woman as a post-doc he wants. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Maraa, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?”

“What do you think of this sentence, my dear Jenne?” said Maraa as she finished it. “Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that Stanna neither expects nor wishes me to be her colleague; that she is perfectly convinced of her brother’s indifference; and that if she suspects the nature of my hopes for him, she means (most kindly!) to put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?”

“Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?”

“Most willingly.”

“You shall have it in a few words. Dr. Haity sees that her colleague favours you, and wants him to employ Ms. Sustinh. She follows him to Ganymede in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he has no interested in you.”

Maraa shook her head.

“Indeed, Maraa, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his interest. Dr. Haity, I am sure, cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much interest in Dr. Sustinh for herself, she would have tendered her resignation with Gilborn immediately. But the case is this: We are not well-funded enough or grand enough for them; and she is the more anxious to get Ms. Sustinh for Dr. Gilborn, from the notion that when there has been one connection, she may have less trouble in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I dare say it would succeed, if Ms. Sustinh were out of the way. But, my dearest Maraa, you cannot seriously imagine that because Dr. Haity tells you Dr. Gilborn greatly admires Ms. Sustinh, he is in the smallest degree less sensible of your merit than when he look leave of you last week, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead of desiring to employ you, he is very much desiring to employ her friend.”

“If we thought alike of Dr. Haity,” replied Dr. Arsala, “your representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the foundation is unjust. Stanna is incapable of wilfully deceiving anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving herself.”

“That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means. You have done your duty by her, and must fret no longer.”

“But, my dear friend, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in accepting an employer whose employees and friends are all wishing him to choose elsewhere?’

“You must decide for yourself,” said Jenne; “and if, upon mature deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two colleagues is more than equivalent to the happiness of working with him, I advise you by all means to refuse him.”

“How can you talk so?” said Jane, faintly smiling. “You must know that though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could not hesitate.”

“I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider your situation with much compassion.”

“But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be required. A thousand things may arise in six months!”

The idea of his returning no more Dr. Rkemari treated with the utmost contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Dr. Haity’s interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man so totally independent of everyone.

She represented to her friend as forcibly as possible what she felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its effect. Dr. Arsala’s temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Gilborn would return to his lab and answer every wish of her heart.

They agreed that Dr. Mtepe should only hear of the departure of the scientists, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman’s conduct; but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace should happen to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Dr. Gilborn would soon be down again and soon visiting their department, and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had been invited only to departmental lunches, she would take care to have two full courses.


	22. Chapter 22

The members of the chemistry department were engaged to dine with the Ruminors and again during the chief of the day was Ms. Ruminor so kind as to listen to Mr. Enok. Dr. Rkemari took an opportunity of thanking her. “It keeps him in good humour,” said she, “and I am more obliged to you than I can express.” Reanne assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was very amiable, but Ms. Ruminor’s kindness extended farther than Jenne had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her from any return of Mr. Enok’s addresses, by engaging them towards herself. She was Ms. Ruminor’s scheme; and appearances were so favourable, that when they parted that evening, she would have felt almost secure of success if he had not been to leave the station so very soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of the department the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to the Ruminors’ to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his hosts, from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost secure, and with reason, for Reanne had been tolerably engaging, he was comparatively diffident since his previous adventure. His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Ms. Ruminor perceived him from the window as he walked towards their rooms, and instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared to hope that so much fortune and eloquence awaited her there.

In as short a time as Mr. Enok’s long speeches would allow, everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day upon which she could take up her employment; and though such a solicitation must be waived for the present, the woman felt no inclination to trifle with his decision. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must guard his proposal from any charm that could make a woman wish for its continuance; and Ms. Ruminor, who accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested desire of employment, cared not how soon that establishment were gained.

Chanceller Weymuth and Dame Ruminor were speedily applied to for their consent; and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Enok’s present circumstances made it a most eligible proposal for their daughter, to whom they could give little prospect; and his own prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The young girls formed hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Reanne’s dying destitute. Reanne herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Enok, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome; and his preference for her must be imaginary. But still he would be her employer. Without thinking highly either of men or managers, a position of her own had always been her object; it was the only provision for moderately educated women like her, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their most pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been thoroughly educated, she felt all the good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business was the surprise it must occasion to Jenne Rkemari, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other person. Jenne would wonder, and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Enok, when joined the others for dinner, to drop no hint of what had passed before any of them. A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his successful hiring.

As the shuttle departed too early on the morrow to see any of them again, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when they said good-bye for the night. Dr. Mtepe, with great politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be to receive his report, and to see him at their department again whenever his engagements might allow him to visit them.

“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as possible.”

They were all astonished; and Professor Bernabian, who could by no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said:

“But is there not danger of Professor Deshpande’s disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better neglect your job than run the risk of offending your patroness.”

“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Enok, “I am particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so material a step without her ladyship’s concurrence.”

“You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that we shall take no offence.”

“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your regard during my stay on the station. As for your fine students, though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting Dr. Rkemari.”

With proper civilities the women then withdrew; all of them equally surprised that he meditated a quick return. Dr. Mtepe wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of the other girls, and Suden Bourgannes might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections that often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very agreeable employer. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Ms. Ruminor called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Dr. Rkemari related the event of the day before.

The possibility of Mr. Enok’s fancying himself as employing her friend had one occurred to Jenne within the last day or two; but that Reanne could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out:

“Contracted to Mr. Enok! My dear Reanne—impossible!”

The steady countenance which Ms. Ruminor had commanded in telling her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly replied:

“Why should you be surprised, my dear Jenne? Do you think it incredible that Mr. Enok should be able to procure any employee’s good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?”

But Jenne had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.

“I see what you are feeling,” replied Reanne. “You must be surprised, very much surprised—so lately as Mr. Enok was wishing to employ you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable living; and considering Mr. Enok’s character, connection, and situation, I am convinced that my chance of happiness working for him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the job market.”

Jenne quietly answered “Undoubtedly;” and after an awkward pause, they returned to the others. Reanne did not stay much longer, and Jenne was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Enok’s making two offers of employment within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that Reanne’s opinion of her future was not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Reanne the employee of Mr. Enok was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.


	23. Chapter 23

Dr. Rkemari was sitting with the others, reflecting on what she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention it, when Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to announcement her new employment. With much self-gratulation on the prospect, he unfolded the matter—to an audience not merely wondering but incredulous; for Dr. Mtepe, with more preseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Ms. Lovage, always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed:

“Good Lord! Chancellor Weymuth, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know that Mr. Enok wants to employ Jenne?”

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne without anger such treatment; but Chancellor Ruminor’s good breeding carried him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.

Dr. Rkemari, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Reanne herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to such exclamations of Dr. Mtepe and the others by the earnestness of her congratulations to Ms. Ruminor, in which she was readily joined by Dr. Arsala, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the arrangement, the excellent character of Mr. Enok, and the compliments that that part of Phobos often attracted.

Dr. Mtepe was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while Chancellor Ruminor remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Enok had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they could never be happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that Dr. Rkemari was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she herself had been barbarously misued by them all; and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Dr. Rkemari without scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Chancellor or Dame Ruminor without being rude, and many months were gone before she could at all forgive Jenne.

Professor Bernabian’s emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that Ms. Ruminor, whom he had been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as Dr. Mtepe, and much more foolish than Dr. Rkemari!

Dr. Arsala confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Jenne persuade her to consider it as improbable. Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage were far from envying Ms. Ruminor, for Mr. Enok was no officer; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at the hub.

Dame Ruminor could not be insesisble of triumph on being able to retort on Dr. Mtepe the comfort of having a dependent well placed; and she called at the department rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, though Dr. Mtepe’s sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away.

Between Jenne and Reanne there was a restraint which kept them mutually silent on the subject; and Jenne felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her disappointment in Reanne made her turn with fonder regard to Maraa, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, as Dr. Gilborn had now been gone a month and nothing more was heard of his return.

Maraa had sent Stanna an early answer to her letter, and was counting the days till might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised letter with thanks from Mr. Enok arrived on Tuesday, addressed to Professor Bernabian, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelve-month’s abode in the area might have prompted. After discharging his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the industry of their amiable neighbor, Ms. Ruminor, and then explained that it was merely with a view of allowing her to enjoy the society of her friends that he had been so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing him again on the station, whither he hoped to be able to return in the new year.

Mr. Enok’s return to the station was no longer a matter of pleasure to Dr. Mtepe. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to complain of it as Professor Bernabian. It was very strange that he should come back to the station merely on Ms. Ruminor’s behalf; it was also very inconvenient and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors when her health was so indifferent, and he of all people was the most disagreeable. She were the gentle murmurs of Dr. Mtepe, and they gave way only to the greater distress of Dr. Gilborn’s continued absence.

Neither Maraa nor Jenne were comfortable on this subject. Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the report which shortly prevailed around the hub of his coming no more to the station the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Dr. Mtepe, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood.

Even Dr. Rkemari began to fear—not that Gilborn was indifferent—but that Dr. Haity and Ms. Huitace would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jenne’s happiness, and so dishonorable to the stability of their friend, she could not prevent its frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling colleagues and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Ms. Sustinh and the amusements of Ganymede might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his attachment.

As for Dr. Arsala, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Dr. Rkemari’s, but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing, and between herself and Jenne, therefore, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained Dr. Mtepe, an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Gilborn, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Maraa to confess that if he did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed all Dr. Arsala’s steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable tranquillity.

Dr. Mtepe was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of anything concerning the arrangement threw her into an agony of ill-humour, and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of Ms. Ruminor was odious to her. Whenever Reanne came to see them, she concluded her to be anticipating her hour of departure. She complained bitterly of all this to Professor Bernabian.

“Indeed, Professor,” said she, “it is very hard to think that Ms. Ruminor should ever be so well placed when not a single one of our girls has yet obtained employment!”

“My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things.”

This was not very consoling to Dr. Mtepe Bennet, and therefore, instead of making any answer, she went on as before.

“I cannot bear to think what should become of us if the accreditation should fail. If it were not for that, I should not mind it.”

“What should not you mind?”

“I should not mind anything at all.”

“Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such insensibility.”

“I never can be thankful, Professor Bernabian, for anything about the accreditation. How anyone could have the conscience to take away all support from one’s own students, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Enok too! Why should he have the authority more than anybody else?”

“I leave it to yourself to determine,” said Professor Bernabian.


	24. Chapter 24

Dr. Haity den Souwga’s letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled on Ganymede for the winter, and concluded with her colleague’s regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends on the Meryton before he left the station.

Hope was over, entirely over; and when Dr. Arsala could attend to the rest of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the writer, that could give her any comfort. Ms. Sustinh’s praise occupied the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Dr. Haity boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former letter. She also wrote with great pleasure of Dr. Gilborn’s being an inmate of Dr. Sustinh’s house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of the latter with regard to new lab equipment.

Dr. Rkemari, to whom Maraa very soon communicated the chief of all this, heard it with silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her friend, and resentment against all others. To Stanna’s assertion of her colleague’s being partial to Ms. Sustinh she paid no credit. That he was really interested in Maraa and her work, she doubted no more than she had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness to the caprice of their inclination. Had his own happiness, however, been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in whatever manner he thought best, but her friend’s was involved in it, as she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing.

She could think of nothing else; and yet whether Gilborn’s partiality had really died away, or were suppressed by his friends’ interference; whether he had been aware of Maraa’s interest, or whether it had escaped his observation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must be materially affected by the difference, her friend’s situation remained the same, her peace equally wounded.

A day or two passed before Maraa had courage to speak of her feelings to Jenne; but at last, on Dr. Mtepe’s leaving them together, after a longer irritation than usual about the Netherfield prize and its master, she could not help saying:

“Oh, that dear Dr. Mtepe had more command over herself! She can have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before.”

Dr. Rkemari looked at her friend with incredulous solicitude, but said nothing.

“You doubt me,” cried Dr. Arsala, slightly colouring; “indeed, you have no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not that pain. A little time, therefore—I shall certainly try to get the better.”

With a stronger voice she soon added, “I have this comfort immediately, that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it has done no harm to anyone but myself.”

“My dear Maraa!” exclaimed Jenne, “you are too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve.”

Dr. Arsala eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back the praise on her friend’s warm affection.

“Nay,” said Dr. Rkemari, “this is not fair. You wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want to think you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege and universal good-will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconstancy of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention; the other is Reanne’s employment. It is unaccountable! In every view it is unaccountable!”

“My dear Jenne, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Enok’s respectability, and Reanne’s steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for everybody’s sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for him.”

“To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that Reanne had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her understanding than I now do of her pragmatics. My dear Maraa, Mr. Enok is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who works for him cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though it is Reanne Ruminor. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger security for happiness.”

“I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,” replied Dr. Arsala; “and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them well-suited to each other. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned two instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you, dear Jenne, not to pain me by thinking that person to blame, and saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally inured. We must not expect a lively young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does.”

“And men take care that they should.”

“If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.”

“I am far from attributing any part of Dr. Gilborn’s conduct to design,” said Jenne; “but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people’s feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business.”

“And do you impute it to either of those?”

“Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can.”

“You persist, then, in supposing his colleagues influence him?”

“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.”

“I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can only wish his happiness; and if he is partial to me, no other will do.”

“Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish him to employ someone who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride.”

“Beyond a doubt, they do wish him to choose Ms. Sustinh,” replied Dr. Arsala; “but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they like her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely that they should have opposed Dr. Gilborn’s. What colleague would think themself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objectionable? If they believed him partial to me, they would not try to separate us; if he were so, they could not have succeeded. By supposing such a partiality, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been mistaken—or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what I should feel in thinking ill of him or of his colleagues. Let me take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.”

Dr. Rkemari could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Dr. Gilborn’s name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Dr. Mtepe still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no more, and though a day seldom passed in which Dr. Rkemari did not account for it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it with less perplexity. Dr. Rkemari endeavoured to convince her of what she did not believe herself, that his intentions towards Maraa had been merely the effect of a common and transient regard, which ceased when he spoke with her no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Dr. Mtepe’s best comfort was that Dr. Gilborn must be down again in the summer.

Professor Bernabian treated the matter differently. “So, Jenne,” said he one day, “your friend is disappointed in propsects, I find. I congratulate her. Next to being employed, a girl likes to be able to rack up the highest rejection stats. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Maraa. Now is your time. Here are officers enough on the station to disappoint all the scholars in the university. Let Owir be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.”

“Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not all expect Maraa’s good fortune.”

“True,” said Professor Bernabian, “but it is a comfort to think that whatever of that kind may befall you, you have a devoted mentor who will make the most of it.”

Mr. Owir’s society was of material service in dispelling the gloom which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the department. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Dr. Rkemari had already heard, his claims on Dr. Sustinh, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was pleased to know how much they had always disliked Dr. Sustinh before they had known anything of the matter.

Dr. Arsala was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of the station; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes—but by everybody else Dr. Sustinh was condemned as the worst of men.


	25. Chapter 25

On the following Monday, Dr. Mtepe had the pleasure of receiving her dear friend Dr. Esakia and her husband, who came as usual to spend the Christmas on the station. Dr. Esakia was a sensible, gentlelike woman, greatly superior to her friend, as well by nature as education. The members of the department would have had difficulty in believing that a woman who worked in industry, and within view of her own warehouses, could have been so well-bred and agreeable. Mr. Esakia, who was several years younger than his wife, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant man, and a great favorite with all the students. Between Dr. Esakia and Drs. Rkemari and Arsala, there subsisted a particular regard. Both had had the pleasure of interning with her on Ganymede.

The first part of Dr. Esakia’s business on her arrival was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions moon side. When this was done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. Dr. Mtepe had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since she last saw her friend. Two of her students had been upon the point of employment, and after all there was nothing in it.

“I do not blame Maraa,” she continued, “for Maraa would have got Dr. Gilborn if she could. But Jenne! Oh, Dr. Esakia! It is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Enok’s secretary by this time, had it not been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is that Dame Ruminor will have her daughter employed first, and our department is just as under threat as it had been! The Ruminors are very artful people indeed. they are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own department, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of long sleeves.”

Dr. Esakia, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in the course of Dr. Rkemari and Dr. Arsala’s correspondence with her, made her friend a slight answer, and, in compassion to those women, turned the conversation.

When alone with Jenne afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “It seems likely to have been a desirable arrangement for Maraa,” said she. “I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Dr. Gilborn, so easily falls in love with the newest research for a few weeks, and when accident pulls him away, so easil forgets his previous joy, that these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent.”

“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Jenne, “but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a scholar whom he was violently partial to only a few days before.”

“But that expression of ‘violently partial’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance, as to a real, strong inclination. Pray, how violent was Dr. Gilborn’s notice?”

“I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite inattentive to other matters, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own conference he offended two or three young ladies, by not conversing with them; and I spoke to him twice myself,  
without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of interest?”

“Oh, yes!—of that kind of interest which I suppose him to have. Poor Maraa! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Jenne; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service—and perhaps a little relief from the station may be as useful as anything.”

Dr. Rkemari was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded of her friend’s ready acquiescence.

“I hope,” added Dr. Esakia, “that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all, unless he really comes to see her.”

“And that is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his friend, and Dr. Sustinh would no more suffer him to call on Maraa! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Dr. Sustinh may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly think a month’s ablution enough to cleanse him from its impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Dr. Gilborn never stirs without him.”

“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Maraa correspond with Dr. Haity? She will not be able to help calling.”

“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.”

But in spite of the certainty in which Dr. Rkemari affected to place this point, as well as the still more interesting one of Gilborn’s being withheld from seeing Dr. Arsala, she felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might be reanimated, and the influence of his friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Maraa’s attractions.

Dr. Arsala accepted Dr. Esakia’s invitation with pleasure; and Dr. Gilborn was no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, except as she hoped by Dr. Haity’s not working on the same project as Dr. Gilborn, she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of seeing him.

The Esakias stayed a month on the station; and what with the Paáls, the Ruminors, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Dr. Mtepe had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her friend and her husband, that they did not once sit down to a departmental dinner. When the  
engagement was on their part, some of the officers always made part of it—of which officers Mr. Owir was sure to be one; and on these occasions, Dr. Esakia, rendered suspicious by Dr. Rkemari’s warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, from what she saw, to be very seriously attracted to each other, their preference of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she resolved to speak to Dr. Rkemari on the subject before she left, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.

To Dr. Esakia, Owir had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part of Io to which he belonged. They had, therefore, may acquaintances in common; and though Owir had been little there since the death of Professor Turan, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of procuring.

Dr. Esakia had seen Pemberley, and known the late Professor Turan by character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute description which Owir could give, and in bestowing her tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with Dr. Sustinh’s present treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman’s reputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with hit, and was confident at last that she recollected having heard Dr. Arkady Sustinh formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured fellow.


	26. Chapter 26

Dr. Esakia’s caution to Jenne was punctually and kindly given on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on:

“You are too sensible a person, Jenne, to become distracted merely because you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself or endeavour to involve him in a connection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against him; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the scholarship he ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you must not let your fascination run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Professor Bernabian depends upon your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint him.”

“My dear Dr. Esakia, this is being serious indeed.”

“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.”

“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of myself, and of Mr. Owir too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”

“Jenne, you are not serious now.”

“I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Owir; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw—and if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it. Oh! that abominable Dr. Sustinh! Professor Bernabian’s opinion of me does me the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. He is, however, partial to Mr. Owir. In short, my dear Dr. Esakia, I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but since we see every day that where there is like-mindedness, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into arrangements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best.”

“Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very often. At least, you should not remind Dr. Mtepe of inviting him.”

“As I did the other day,” said Dr. Rkemari with a conscious smile: “very true, it will be wise in me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so frequently invited this week. You know Dr. Mtepe’s ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my honour, I will try to do what I think to be the wisest; and now I hope you are satisfied.”

Her friend assured her that she was, and Dr. Rkemari having thanked her for the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point, without being resented.

Reanne Ruminor was to leave the station on the next shuttle, as arrangements had finally been completed to receive her on Phobos. Dr. Rkemari was at length so far resigned as to think Reanne’s departure inevitable, and hoped that she might see her friend once more and say that she “wished she might be happy.” On the day before, Ms. Ruminor paid her final farewell visit; and when she rose to take leave, Jenne, sincerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the room. As they went down the hall together, Reanne said:

“I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Jenne.”

“That you certainly shall.”

“And I have another favour to ask you. Will you come and see me?”

“We shall often meet, I hope, when the station's orbit takes us to Phobos.”

“I am not likely to leave Phobos for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Stickney.”

Jenne could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the visit.

“My father and Moren are coming to me in spring,” added Reanne, “and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Jenne, you will be as welcome as either of them.”

The shuttle took off the next day, and everybody had as much to say, or to hear, on the subject as usual. Jenne soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Dr. Rkemari could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and though determined not to slack as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Ms. Ruminor’s first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new job, how she would like Professor Deshpande, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be; though, when the letters were read, Jenne felt that Reanne expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. Her office, the furniture, neighborhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Professor Deshpande’s behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Enok’s picture of Stickney and Romulus Hall rationally softened; and Jenne perceived that she must wait for her own visit there to know the rest.

Maraa had already written a few lines to her friend to announce her safe arrival on Ganymede; and when she wrote again, Jenne hoped it would be in her power to say something of Gilborn and the others.

Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Dr. Arsala had been a week moonside without either seeing or hearing from Stanna. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that her last letter to her friend from the station had by some accident been lost.

“Our friend,” she continued, “is going to-morrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street.”

She wrote again when the visit to the lab was paid, and she had see Dr. Haity den Souwga. “I did not think Stanna in spirits,” were her words, “but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to Ganymede. I was right, therefore, my last letter had never reached her. In quired after Dr. Gilborn, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Dr. Sustinh that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Ms. Sustinh was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Stanna and Ms. Huitace were going out. I dare say I shall see them soon here.”

Jenne shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that accident only could discover to Dr. Gilborn her friend’s being in town.

Four weeks passed away, and Dr. Arsala saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be blind to Dr. Haity’s inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, the alteration of her manner would allow Maraa to deceive herself no longer. The letter she wrote on this occasion to her friend will prove what she felt.

“My dearest Jenne will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Dr. Haity’s regard for me. But, my dear friend, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Stanna did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology, for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did; I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for Dr. Gilborn is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to her, whatever anxiety she must feel on his behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Ms. Sustinh. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy—your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear hosts. Let me hear from you very soon. Dr. Haity said something of his never returning to the station again, and taking the Netherfield prize elsewhere, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Stickney. Pray go to see them, with Chancellor Weymuth and Moren. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.—Yours, etc.”

This letter gave Dr. Rkemari some pain; but her spirits returned as she considered that Dr. Arsala would no longer be duped, by Dr. Haity at least. All expectation from Dr. Gilborn was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Maraa, she seriously hoped he might really soon take up with Dr. Sustinh’s sister, as by Owir’s account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away.

Dr. Esakia about this time reminded Dr. Rkemari of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Dr. Rkemari had such to send as might rather give contentment to her friend than to herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Dr. Rkemari was watchful enough to see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of a hundred thousand was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Dr. Rkemari, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Reanne’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy.

All this was acknowledged to Dr. Esakia; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on: “I am now convinced, my dear friend, that I have never been much attracted to him; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him; they are even impartial towards Ms. Kiruai. I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I certainly should be a more interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kikkuli and Loris take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”


	27. Chapter 27

With no greater events than these in the department, and otherwise diversified by little beyond walks to the hub, sometimes dirty and sometimes dull, did January and February pass away. March was to take Dr. Rkemari to Stickney. She had not at first thought very seriously of going thither; but Reanne, she soon found, was depending on the plan and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing Reanne again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Enok. There was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a department and such uncompanionable colleagues and fellow students, the station could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey, moreover, would be her first off-station in a number of years; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Reanne’s first sketch. She was to accompany the Chancellor and Moren Ruminor, on their private shuttle, and the plan became perfect as plan could be.

The only pain was in leaving the Professor, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter. The farewell between herself and Mr. Owir was perfectly friendly; and on his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that Dr. Rkemari had been the first to excite and deserve his attention, the first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what she was to expect in Professor Chandra Deshpande, and trusting their opinion of her—their opinion of everybody—would always coincide, there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that, whether in industry or in academia, he must always be her model of the amiable and pleasing.

Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think him less agreeable. Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor, and his daughter Moren, a good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the shuttle. Dr. Rkemari loved absurdities, but she had known the Chancellor’s too long. he could tell her nothing new of the wonders of his presentation and investment as chancellor; and his civilities were worn out, like his information.

It was a journey of only three days, and they began it so early as to be within range of Ganymede by midday. Dr. Rkemari sat anxiously until a link was established, and then had all the delight of a three months’ absence at seeing the face of her friend and colleague again. Maraa was there to welcome her, and Jenne, looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On the stairs behind her was a troop of little girls and boys, whose eagerness for her appearance would not allow them to wait, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming closer. All was joy and kindness.

Dr. Rkemari contrived to speak with Dr. Esakia, alone. Their first object was their friend; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to her minute inquiries, that though Maraa always struggled to support her spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope that they would not be continued long. Dr. Esakia gave her the particulars also of Dr. Haity’s visit, and repeated conversations occurring at different times between Maraa and herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the acquaintance.

Dr. Esakia then rallied her friend on Owir’s desertion, and complimented her on bearing it so well.

“But my dear Jenne,” she added, “what sort of girl is Ms. Kiruai? I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.”

“Pray, my dear friend, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only a hundred thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is mercenary.”

“If you will only tell me what sort of girl Ms. Kiruai is, I shall know what to think.”

“She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.”

“But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grant made her mistress of this fortune.”

“No—why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain my affections because I had no money, what occasion could there be for making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally poor?”

“But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her so soon after this event.”

“A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant decorums which other people may observe. If she does not object to it, why should we?”

“Her not objecting does not justify him. It only shows her being deficient in something herself—sense or feeling.”

“Well,” cried Dr. Rkemari, “have it as you choose. He shall be mercenary, and she shall be foolish.”

“No, Jenne, that is what I do not choose. I should be sorry, you know, to think ill of a young man who has lived so long on Io.”

“Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live on Io; and their intimate friends who live on Ganymede are not much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going two days hence where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all.”

“Take care, Jenne; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.”

Before they were separated as the shuttle went out of reach again, she had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany Dr. Esakia on a tour of conference which she proposed taking in the summer.

“We have not determined how far it shall carry us,” said Dr. Esakia, “but, perhaps, to the Martian Lakes.”

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Dr. Rkemari, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. “Oh, my dear, dear friend,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! What hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not belike other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We will know where we have gone—we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers.”


	28. Chapter 28

Every object of the next day’s journey was new and interesting to Dr. Rkemari; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had seen her friend looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of a tour with her other friend come summer was a constant source of delight.

When they entered the Phoban orbit and landed near Stickney, converting them to a local conveyance, every eye was in search of the office block that held Mr. Enok’s arrangements, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Romulus Hall was their boundary on one side. Jenne smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

At length Mr. Enok’s office building was discernible. The new-fashioned solar-panneled outside declared it to be at the height of modern technology, and the cool glass and stone lent the facade a welcome gravity. Ms. Ruminor buzzed them in, and they had but a short walk to the elevator, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all reunited, rejoicing in the sight of each other. Ms. Ruminor welcomed her friend with the liveliest of pleasure, and Dr. Rkemari was more and more satisfied with coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that Mr. Enok’s manners were not altered with the passage of time; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes in the doorway to hear and satisfy his inquiries after the entire department. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into his office; and soon as they were seated, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious formality to his humble environs, and punctually repeated all his secretary’s offers of refreshment.

Dr. Rkemari was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder at her friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such an employer. When Mr. Enok said anything of which his secretary might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Reanne. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Reanne wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the bookshelves to the coffee machine, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened since he’d left the station, Mr. Enok invited them to take a stroll in the direction of Romulus Hall. He was a great walker, he fancied, and devoted a portion of his time every day to such a journey. To walk for one’s health and pleasure was a most respectable pleasure; and Jenne admired the command of countenance with which Reanne talked of the healthfulness of exercise, and owned she encouraged his walks as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them a moment of breath, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the buildings in every direction, and could tell how many street cars there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which Stickney could boast, none were compared with the prospect of Romulus Hall, afforded by an opening in the wall that bordered the block nearly opposite the front of his building. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.

From his office, Mr. Enok would have led them round the back alleys towards Romulus Hall; but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of an ash storm, turned back; and while Chancellor Weymuth accompanied him, Reanne took her sister and friend back to her office, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her employer’s help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which Jenne gave Reanne all the credit. When Mr. Enok could be forgotten, there was really an air of great satisfaction throughout, and by Reanne’s evident enjoyment of it, Jenne supposed he must be often forgotten.

She had already learnt that Professor Deshpande was still moonside. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Enok joining in, observed:

“Yes, Dr. Rkemari, you will have the honour of seeing Professor Chandra Deshpande on the ensuing Sunday at lecture, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when talk is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying she will include you and Ms. Moren Ruminor in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to Ms. Ruminor is charming. We dine at Romulus Hall twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. The professor’s carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of the professor’s carriages, for she has several.”

“Professor Deshpande is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed,” added Ms. Rumino, “and a most attentive neighbour.” Her own small apartment was far from neither the office tower building nor Romulus Hall.

“Very true, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference.”

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over station news, and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed, Jenne, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Reanne’s degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her employer, and to acknowlede that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Enok, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Romulus Hall. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak everyone into confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door and met Moren in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out—

“Oh, my dear Jenne! pray make haste and come into the foyer, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment.”

Dr. Rkemari asked questions in vain; Moren would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the foyer, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder. It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton across the lane.

“And is this all?” cried Dr. Rkemari. “I expected at least that meteors were falling into the garden, and here is nothing but Professor Deshpande and her daughter.”

“La! my dear,” said Moren, quite shocked at the mistake,

“it is not Professor Deshpande. The old lady is Ms. Skurt, who lives with them; the other is Ms. Deshpande. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?”

“She is abominably rude to keep Ms. Ruminor out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?”

“Oh, Reanne says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours when Ms. Deshpande comes in.”

“I like her appearance,” said Jenne, struck with other ideas. “She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper companion.”

Mr. Enok and Ms. Ruminor were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Chancellor Weymuth, to Dr. Rkemari’s high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Ms. Deshpande looked that way.

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned. Mr. Enok no sooner saw the two women than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which Ms. Ruminor explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked to dine at Romulus Hall the next day.


	29. Chapter 29

Mr. Enok’s triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his secretary’s wondering guests, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and Ms. Ruminor, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Professor Deshpande’s condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.

“I confess,” said he, “that I should not have been at all surprised by the professor asking us on Sunday to attend a lecture and then spend the evening at Romulus Hall. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there (an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately after your arrival!”

“I am the less surprised at what has happened,” replied Chancellor Weymuth, “from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the grandest universities, such instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon.”

Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their visit to Romulus Hall. Mr. Enok was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.

When it came time for them to separate, he said to Dr. Rkemari—

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear Dr. Rkemari, about your apparel. Professor Deshpande is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest—there is no occasion for anything more. Professor Deshpande will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved.”

The day they were to visit, Mr. Enok came by a quarter of an hour early to fetch them, and continued two or three times to rap at their door, to recommend their being quick, as Professor Deshpande very much objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of the professor, and her manner of living, quite frightened Moren Ruminor who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her introduction at Romulus Hall with as much apprehension as her father had done to his presentation in Ganymade.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across lots. Every city has its beauty and its prospects; and Dr. Rkemari saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such raptures as Mr. Enok expected the scene to inspire, and was but slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost.

When they ascended the steps to the hall, Moren’s alarm was every moment increasing, and even Chancellor Weymuth did not look perfectly calm. Dr. Rkemari’s courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Professor Deshpande that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought she could witness without trepidation.

From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Enok pointed out, with a rapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, they followed the housebot through an ante-chamber, to the room where Professor Chandra Deshpande, her daughter, and Ms. Skurt were sitting. The professor, with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Ms. Ruminor had settled it with Mr. Enok that the office of introduction should be hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary.

In spite of his time on Ganymede, Chancellor Weymuth was so completely awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word; and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Dr. Rkemari found herself completely equal to the scene, and could observe those before her composedly. Professor Deshpande was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior status. She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Owir immediately to Jenne’s mind; and from the obsesrvation of the day altogether, she believed Professor Deshpande to be exactly what he represented.

When, after examining the mother, in whose conduct and deportment she soon found some similarity of Dr. Sustinh, she turned her eyes on the daughter, she could almost have joined in Moren’s astonishment at her being so thin and small. Ther was neither in figure nor face any likewise between the women. Ms. Deshpande was pale and sickly; her features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very little, except in a low voice, to Ms. Skurt, in whose appearance there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before her eyes.

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to admire the view, Mr. Enok attending them to point out its beauties, and Professor Deshpande kindly informing them that it was much better worth looking at in the summer.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the housebots and all the articles of plate which Mr. Enok had promised; and, as he had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by the professor’s desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Chancellor Weymuth, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his daughter’s employer said, in a manner which Dr. Rkemari wondered Professor Deshpande could bear. But Chandra Deshpande seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Dr. Rkemari was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between Reanne and Ms. Deshpande—the former of whom was engaged in listening to Professor Deshpande, and the latter said not a word to her all dinner-time. Ms. Skurt was chiefly employed in watching how little Ms. Deshpande ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she was indisposed. Moren thought speaking out of the question, and the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.

When they retired to the drawing-room, there was little to be done but to hear Professor Deshpande talk, which she did without any intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every subject in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to have her judgement controverted. She inquired into Reanne’s most recent set of reports familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all; told her how everything out to be regulated in so small an office as hers, and instructed her as to the care of her computer and routers. Dr. Rkemari found that nothing was beneath this great lady’s attention, which could furnish her with an occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse with Ms. Ruminor, she addressed a variety of questions to Moren and Jenne, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew the least, and who she observed to Ms. Ruminor was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how large her cohort was, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of them were likely to be tenured, whether they were clever, where they had been educated before, how often her head of department went off station, and who had been Dr. Mtepe’s supervisor? Dr. Rkemari felt all the impertinence of her questions but answered them very composedly. Professor Deshpande then observed,

“Your department is currently under review by Mr. Enok’s establishment, I think. For your sake,” turning to Reanne, “I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no occasion for such heavy-handed external oversight. It has never been thought necessary at Romulus Hall. Do you play and sing, Dr. Rkemari?”

“A little.”

“Oh! then—some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capital one, probably superior to—You shall try it some day. Do the others in your department play and sing?”

“One of them does.”

“Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. All the biology department here play, and they are not as well funded as your are. Do you code?”

“No, not at all.”

“What, none of you?”

“Not one.”

“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your placement officer should have been more forceful in putting you forward for internships.”

“Dr. Mtepe would have had no objections, but Professor Bernabian thought it was needless. Further, we could not be spared, there was too much instruction to be done.”

“Have you no adjuncts?”

“We never had any adjuncts.”

“No adjuncts! How was that possible? A department of your size without adjuncts! I never heard of such a thing. You must have been quite a slave to your teaching. Then, who does your teaching? who attends to you? Without adjuncts, you must have been quite overworked.”

“Compared with some departments, I believe we were; but such of us as wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle, certainly might.”

“Aye, no doubt; but that is what adjunct are for, and if I had known your arrangements, I should have advised Dr. Mtepe most strenuously to engage some. I always say that nothing is to be done in research without steady and regular time for quiet contemplation, and nobody but an adjunct can supply that. It is wonderful how many departments I have been the means of supplying in this way. I am always glad to get a young scholar well placed out. Four students of Ms. Skurt are most delightfully situated through my means; and it was but the other day i recommended another young person, who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the department are quite delighted with her. Ms. Ruminor, did I tell you of Professor Menkhat’s calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Dr. Smereka a treasure. ‘Professor Chandra,’ said she, ‘you have given me a treasure.’ Are any of the master’s students publishing yet?”

“Yes, ma’am, all.”

“All! What, all of them, already? Very odd! And you more senior than them. The younger ones publishing before the elder ones employed! They must be very young?”

“Yes, the youngest is not twenty. Perhaps she is full young to be publishing much. But really, ma’am, I think it should be very hard upon younger scholars, that they should not have their own chance at publication and preferment, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to a job. The last has as good a right to advance their career as the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I think it would not be very likely to promote collegiality or delicacy of mind.”

“Upon my word,” said the professor, “you give your opinion very decidedly for someone in a precarious position. Pray, how long has it been since you defended?”

“With so many younger students in my department,” replied Dr. Rkemari, smiling, “you can hardly expect me to own it.”

Professor Deshpande seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; and Dr. Rkemari suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.

“You cannot be more than three years out, I am sure, therefore you need not conceal it.”

“I am not yet five years out.”

When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea served, the card-tables were placed. Professor Deshpande, Chancellor Ruminor, Mr. Enok, and Ms. Ruminor sat down to quadrille; and as Ms. Deshpande chose to play at cassino, Dr. Rkemari and Moren Ruminor had the honour of assisting Ms. Skurt to make up her party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was uttered that did not related to the game, except when Ms. Skurt expressed her fears of Ms. Deshpande’s being too hot or too cold, or having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the other table. Professor Deshpande was generally speaking—stating the mistakes of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Enok was employed in agreeing to everything she said, thanking her for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. The chancellor did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes and noble names.

When Professor Deshpande and her daughter had played as long as they chose, the tables were broken up, a shuttle offered to Ms. Ruminor and her guests, gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered round the fire to hear Professor Deshpande determine what weather they were to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by the arrival of the shuttle; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. Enok’s side and as many bows on Chancellor Weymuth’s they departed. As soon as  
they had driven from the door, Dr. rkemari was called on by her friend to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Romulus Hall, which, for her friend’s sake, she made more favourable than it really was.


	30. Chapter 30

The chancellor stayed only a session at Stickney, but his visit was long enough to convince him of his daughter’s being most comfortably settled, and of her possessing such an employer and such a patroness as were not often met with. While Chancellor Weymuth was with them, Mr. Enok devoted his morning to driving him out, and showing him the city; but when he went away, the whole office returned to their usual employments, and Dr. Rkemari was thankful to find that they did not see more of Reanne’s employer by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and dinner was now passed by him at work in his office or in reading and writing, and looking out of the window in his own book-room, which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. Dr. Rkemari had at first rather wondered that Reanne should not prefer to be better kitted out; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Enok would undoubtedly been much less in his own office and much more in hers, had they sat in one equally lively; and she gave Ms. Ruminor credit for the arrangement.

From Reanne’s office they could see nothing outside, and were indebted to Mr. Enok for the knowledge of what shuttles went along, and how often especially Ms. Deshpande drove by in her phaeton, which he never failed to inform them of, though it happened almost every day. She not unfrequently paused to relay a message to Reanne, but was scarcely ever prevailed upon to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Enok did not go to Romulus Hall, and not many in which Ms. Ruminor did not think it necessary to go liekwise; and till Dr. Rkemari recollected that there might be other places on boards to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from the professor, and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement of the furniture; or detected a housebot in negligence; and if she accepted any invitation to visit in person, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding out that Ms. Ruminor’s catering arrangements were too large for the office.

Dr. Rkemari soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in commission of the peace of the base, she was a most active magistrate in her own realm, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Enok; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty. The entertainment of dining at Romulus Hall was repeated about twice a week; and, allowing for the loss of the Chancellor, and there being only one card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of the first. Their other engagements were few, as Ms. Ruminor’s style of living was in general quite modest. This, however, was no evil to Dr. Rkemari, and upon the whole she spent her time comfortably enough; there were half-hours of pleasant conversation with Reanne, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Professor Deshpande, was along the wall that edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no on seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Professor Deshpande’s curiosity.

In this quiet way, the forepart of her visit soon passed away. Equinox was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Romulus Hal, which in so small a circle must be important. Dr. Rkemari had heard soon after her arrival that Dr. Sustinh was expected there on the next but one shuttle, and though there were not many of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Romulus parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Dr. Haity’s designs on him were, by his behaviour to Ms. Deshpande, for Professor Deshpande evidently intended her for him and talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Ms. Ruminor and herself. 

His arrival was soon know in the office; for Mr. Enok was walking the whole morning back and forth in front of the window with view of the opening into the lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making his nod as the carriage turned into the park, hurried to Ms. Ruminor’s office with the great intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Romulus Hall to pay his respects. There were two guests of Professor Deshpande to require them, for Dr. Sustinh had brought with him a Colonel Ab-Aripert, the younger son of Admiral Ab-Aripert, and to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Enok returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Reanne had seen them from Mr. Enok’s office, crossing the road, and immediately running into hers, told the others what an honour they might expect, adding:

“I may thank you, Jenne, for this piece of civility. Dr. Sustinh would never have come so soon to wait upon me.”

Dr. Rkemari had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the intercom, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the office. Colonel Ab-Aripert, who led the way, was about thirty-five, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Dr. Sustinh looked just as he had been used to look on the Meryton—paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Ms. Ruminor, and whatever might his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Dr. Rkemari merely curtseyed to him without  
saying a word.

Colonel Ab-Aripert entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but his companion, after having addressed a slight observation on the office and the weather to Ms. Ruminor, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of Dr. Rkemari after the health of her colleagues. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment’s pause added:

“Dr. Arsala has been on Ganymede these four months. Have you never happened to see her there?”

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Arsala, and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Dr. Arsala. The subject was pursued no further, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away.


	31. Chapter 31

Colonel Ab-Aripert’s manners were very much admired, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Romulus Hall. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither—for while there were visitors in the house, they could not be necessary; and it was not until equinox, almost a week after the gentlemen’s arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked, when Ms. Deshpande encountered Mr. Enok outside his office, to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of Professor Deshpande or her daughter. Colonel Ab-Aripert had called on them more than once during the time, but Dr. Sustinh they had seen only at a distance.

The invitation was accepted, of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Professor Deshpande’s drawing-room. The professor received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by the gentlemen, speaking to them, especially to Dr. Sustinh, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Ab-Aripert seemed really glad to see them; anything was a welcome relief to him at Romulus Hall; and Ms. Ruminor’s clever friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now sweated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Stickney and Phobos, of traveling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Jenne had never been half so well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Professor Deshpande herself, as well as of Dr. Sustinh. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity; and that the professor, after a while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out:

“What is that you are saying, Ab-Aripert? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Dr. Rkemari? Let me hear what it is.”

“We are speaking of statistics, madam,” said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

“Of statistics! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of statistics. There are few people on Phobos, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of statistics than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Tegeren, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have excelled delightfully. How does Ilian get on, Sustinh?”

Dr. Sustinh spoke with affectionate praise of his sister’s proficiency.

“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,” said Professor Deshpande; “and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel if she does not devote a good deal of time to her studies.”

“I assure you, madam,” he replied, “that she does not need such advice. She is studying very constantly.”

“So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect her studies on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in statistics is to be acquired without constant exertion. I have told Dr. Rkemari several times, that she will never calculate really well unless she practises more; and though Ms. Ruminor has few books, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Romulus every day, and make fair use of the library in the lower south end. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part of the house.”

Dr. Sustinh looked a little ashamed of his host’s ill-breeding, and made no answer.

When coffee was over, Colonel Ab-Aripert reminded Dr. Rkemari of having promised to play him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Professor Deshpande listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other guest; till the latter walked away from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer’s countenance. Jenne saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said:

“You mean to frighten me, Dr. Sustinh, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed. There is a stubbornness about me that can never bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

“I shall not say you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.”

Dr. Rkemari laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel Ab-Aripert, “Your friend will give you a pretty notion of me, I am sure, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Dr. Sustinh, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage on the station—and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your friends to hear.”

“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.

“Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel Ab-Aripert. “I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.”

“You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him on the Meryton, you must know, was at a lecture—and at this lecture, what do you think he did? He asked only four questions, though scholars were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one speaker waited in want of a query. Dr. Sustinh, you cannot deny the fact.”

“I had not at that time the honour of being familiar with the recent work of the members of the university there.”

“True; and one can never speak on a subject without being an expert on it. Well, Colonel Ab-Aripert, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.”

“Perhaps,” said Sustinh, “I should have judged better, had I tried to make a contribution; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”

“Shall we ask your friend the reason of this?” said Jenne, still addressing Colonel Ab-Aripert. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has many publications to his name, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”

“I can answer your question,” said Ab-Aripert, “without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Sustinh, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

“My fingers,” said Jenne, “do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many other’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as another’s of superior execution.”

Dr. Sustinh smiled and said, “You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.”

Here they were interrupted by Professor Chandra, who called out to know what they were talking of. Jenne immediately began playing again. Professor Deshpande approached, and after listening for a few minutes, said to Sustinh:

“Dr. Rkemari would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and could have the advantage of a Ganymede master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal. Tegeren would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.”

Dr. Rkemari looked at Dr. Sustinh to see how cordially he assented to Ms. Deshpande’s praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she discern any symptom of interest; and from the whole of his behaviour to Ms. Deshpande she derived this comfort for Dr. Haity, that he might have been just as likely to employ her, had she been in Tegeren Deshpande’s place.

Professor Deshpande continued her remarks on Jenne’s performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Dr. Rkemari received them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the gentlemen, remained at the instrument till the professor’s shuttle was ready to take them all home.


	32. Chapter 32

Dr. Rkemari was sitting by herself the next morning, and working out a particularly difficult proof, while Ms. Ruminor and her sister were gone on business, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no shuttle, she thought it not unlikely to be Professor Deshpande, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished paper that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Dr. Sustinh, and Dr. Sustinh only, entered the room.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood Ms. Ruminor was to be within.

They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Romulus Hall were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence recollecting when she had seen him last on the Meryton, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed:

“How very suddenly you all quitted the Meryton last November, Dr. Sustinh! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Dr. Gilborn to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but a few days before. He and Dr. Haity were well, I hope, when you left Ganymede?”

“Perfectly so, I thank you.”

She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short pause added:

“I think I have understood that Dr. Gilborn has not much idea of ever returning to his Netherfield research again?”

“I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time on it in the future. He has many projects, and is at a time of career when engagements and invitations are continually increasing.”

“If he means to be but little on the Meryton, it would be better for the university that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family instead. But, perhaps, Dr. Gilborn did not choose the station so much for the convenience of the university as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.”

“I should not be surprised,” said Sustinh, “if he were to give it up as soon as he was eligible.”

Dr. Rkemari made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.

He took the hint, and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable space. Professor Deshpande, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Enok first came to Stickney.”

“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”

“Mr. Enok appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a secretary.”

“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have  
accepted him. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her accepting employment from Mr. Enok as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light it is certainly a very good position for her.”

“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a connection of her own family and friends.”

“An easy distance, do you call it? The Meryton is scarcely here more than twice per year.”

“But what are a few planets when there are shuttles? Little more than a few days’ journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”

“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the arrangement,” cried Dr. Rkemari. “I should never have said Ms. Ruminor was settled near her family.”

“It is proof of your own attachment to the Meryton. Anything outside of the station confines, I suppose, would appear far.”

As he spoke there was a sort of smile with Dr. Rkemari fancied she understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Dr. Arsala and the Netherfield grant, and she blushed as she answered:

“I do not mean to say that someone may not be settled too near her previous department. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of traveling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Ms. Ruminor may have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys offmoon—I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under the present circumstances.”

Dr. Sustinh drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always on the Meryton.”

Dr. Rkemari looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and glancing over it, said, in a colder voice:

“Are you pleased with Phobos?”

A short dialogue on the subject of the moon ensued, on either side calm and concise—and soon put an end to by the entrance of Reanne and her sister, just returned from their business. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Dr. Sustinh related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Dr. Rkemari, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away.

“What can be the meaning of this?” said Reanne, as soon as he was gone. “My dear, Jenne, he must be fascinated by you, or he would never have called us in this familiar way.”

But when Jenne told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Reanne’s wishes, to be the case; and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of the year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Professor Deshpande, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot always be within doors; and in the nearness of the office towers, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who worked in it, the two friends found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Ab-Aripert came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more; and Jenne was reminded by her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her former favourite Kerth Owir; and though, in comparing them, she was there was less captivating softness in Colonel Ab-Aripert’s manners, she believed he might have the best informed mind.

But why Dr. Sustinh came so often, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. Ms. Ruminor did not know what to make of him. Colonel Ab-Aripert’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Jenne, she set herself seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at Romulus Hall, and whenever he came to her office; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Jenne the possibility of his being partial to her, but Dr. Rkemari always laughed at the idea; and Ms. Ruminor did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

In her kind schemes for Dr. Rkemari, she sometimes planned her joining forces with Colonel Ab-Aripert. He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Dr. Sustinh had considerable patronage in the academy, and his friend could have none at all.


	33. Chapter 33

More than once did Dr. Rkemari, in her rambles about the old abandoned library in the center of the city, unexpectedly meet Dr. Sustinh. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second tme, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like wilfull ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third recontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being on Stickney, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. Enok and Ms. Ruminor’s arrangements; and that in speaking of Romulus Hall and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came to Phobos again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. She could not make sense of it. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the tower block that housed Ms. Ruminor’s office.

She was engaged one day as she walked, in perusing Dr. Arsala’s last letter, and welling on some passages which proved that Maraa had not written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Dr. Sustinh, she saw on looking up that Colonel Ab-Aripert was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said:

“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”

“I have been making the tour of the city,” he replied, “as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at Ms. Ruminor’s. Are you going much farther?”

“No, I should have turned in a moment.”

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked on together.

“Do you certainly leave Phobos on Saturday?” said she.

“Yes—if Sustinh does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”

“And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Dr. Sustinh.”

“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Ab-Aripert. “But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”

“These are home questions—and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters o greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot attach themselves where they like.”

“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”

“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”

“Is this,” thought Jenne, “meant for me?” and she coluoured at the idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, “And pray, what is the usual price of an earl’s younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above five hundred thousand.”

He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, she soon afterwards said:

“I imagine your friend brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her.”

“No,” said Colonel Ab-Aripert, “that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Ms. Sustinh.”

“Are you indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young women of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Sustinh spirit, she may like to have her own way.”

As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Ms. Sustinh likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth. She directly replied:

“You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favourite with some of my acquaintance, Ms. Huitace and Dr. Stanna Haity den Souwga. I think I have heard you say that you know them.”

“I know them a little. Their colleague is a pleasant gentlemanlike man—he is a great friend of Sustinh’s.”

“Oh! yes,” said Jenne drily; “Dr. Sustinh is uncommonly kind to Dr. Gilborn, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.”

“Care of him! Yes, I really believe Sustinh does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Gilborn very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Gilborn was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”

“What is it you mean?”

“It is a circumstance which Sustinh could not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the woman’s institution, it would be an unpleasant thing.”

“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”

“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Gilborn. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent match, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Gilborn from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer and autumn.”

“Did Dr. Sustinh give you reasons for this interference?”

“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the candidate.”

“And what arts did he use to separate them?”

“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Ab-Aripert, smiling. “He only told me what I have now told you.”

Dr. Rkemari made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Ab-Aripert asked her why she was so thoughtful.

“I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your friend’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?”

“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”

“I do not see what right Dr. Sustinh had to decide on the propriety of his friend’s inclination, or why, upon his judgement alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to run his lab. But,” she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much mutual alignment in the case.”

“That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Ab-Aripert, “but it is a lessening of the honour of my cousin’s triumph very sadly.”

This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture of Dr. Sustinh, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent matters until they reached their destination. There, shut into her own room, as soon as her visitor left them, she could not think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men over whom Dr. Sustinh could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Arsala she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Dr. Haity the principal design and arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, he was the case, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Maraa had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for awhile every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

“There were some very strong objections against the candidate,” were Colonel Ab-Aripert’s words; and those strong objections probably were, her having done her degree on a peregrinatory station and a supervisor connected to industry.

“To Maraa herself,” she exlaimed, “ there could be no possibility of objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is!—her understanding excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could anything be urged against Professor Bernabian, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities Dr. Sustinh himself need not disdain, and respectability which he will probably never reach.” When she thought of Dr. Mtepe, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow that any objection there had material weight with Dr. Sustinh, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend’s connections, than from their want of sense; and she was quite decided, at least, that he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Dr. Gilborn’s position for his sister.

The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added to her unwillingness to see Dr. Sustinh, it determined her not to attend the others to Romulus Hall, where they were engaged to drink tea. Ms. Ruminor, seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go and as much as possible prevented Mr. Enok from pressing her; but Mr. Enok could not conceal his apprehension of Professor Deshpande’s being rather displeased by her staying at home.


	34. Chapter 34

When they were gone, Jenne, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Dr. Sustih, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Maraa had written to her since her being on Phobos. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Jenne noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Dr. Sustinh’s shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her a keener sense of her sister’s sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Romulus Hall was to end on the day after the next—and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself be back with Maraa on the station, and enabled to contriute to the recovery of her spirits, by all that affection could do.

She could not think of Sustinh’s leaving Phobos without remembering that his friend was to go with him; but Colonel Ab-Aripert had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.

While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Ab-Aripert himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Dr. Sustinh walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Jenne was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began:

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Dr. Rkemari’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the various obstacles which had alwasy opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.

In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man’s affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her with strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only exasperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said:

“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. it has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgement of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”

Dr. Sustinh, who was leaning against the bookcase with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Dr. Rkemari’s feelings dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said:

“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”

“I might as well inquire,” replied she, “why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against you—had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved friend?”

As she pronounced these words, Dr. Sustinh changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued:

“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other—of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.”

She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.

“Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated.

With assumed tranquillity he then replied: “I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your colleague, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.”

Dr. Rkemari disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.

“But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, “on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I have received many months ago from Mr. Owir. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon  
others?”

“You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns,” said Sustinh, in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.

“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”

“His misfortunes!” repeated Sustinh contemptuously; “yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”

“And of your infliction,” cried Dr. Rkemari with energy.

“You have reduced him to his present state of poverty—comparative poverty, and blocked all hope he might have had for academic preferment. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule.”

“And this,” cried Sustinh, as he walked quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hopes of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”

Dr. Rkemari felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said:

“You are mistaken, Arkady Sustinh, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”

She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued:

“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”

Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on:

“From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not know you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to be connected with.”

“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

And with these words he hastily left the room, and Dr. Rkemari heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.

The tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer from Dr. Sustinh! That he should have been in love with her for so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend’s connecting with her colleague, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case—was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong a regard. But his pride, his abominable pride—his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Dr. Arsala—his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Owir, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited. She continued in very agitated reflections till the sound of Ms. Ruminor returning made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Reanne’s observation, and hurried her away to her room.


	35. Chapter 35

Dr. Rkemari awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of anything else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Dr. Sustinh’s sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the library, she turned up the lane, which led farther from the turnpike-road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the grounds of Romulus Hall.

After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed on Phobos had made a great difference in the season, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park; he was moving that way; and, fearful of its being Dr. Sustinh, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which provide it to be Dr. Sustinh, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, “I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?” And then, with a slight bow, turned again into the park, and was soon out of sight.

With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Dr. Rkemari opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter-paper, written quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated from Romulus Hall, at eight o’clock in the morning, and was as follows:—

“Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.

“Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the preferences of either, I had detached Dr. Gilborn from Dr. Arsala, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Owir. Willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my advisor, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young persons, whose desires were but the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in the future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives have been read. If, in the explanation of them, which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, i can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd.

“I had not been long on the Mertyon, before I saw, in common with others, that Gilborn preferred Dr. Arsala to any other scholar on the station. But it was not till the evening of the conference dinner that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious preference. I had often seen him flattering the accomplishments of a young scholar before. At that conference, while I had the honour of speaking with you, I was first made acquainted by Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor’s accidental information, that Gilborn’s attentions to Dr. Arsala had given rises to a general expectation of a contract. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Dr. Arsala was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your friend I also watched. Her looks and manner were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening’s scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not particularly invite them. If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in error. Your superior knowledge of your friend must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of your friend’s countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her reason was not likely to be easily swayed. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain—but I will venture to say that my investigation and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the match were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of Dr. Mtepe’s connections, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by the younger students in your department, and occasionally even by Professor Bernabian. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your colleagues, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like ensure, is praise no less generally bestowed on you and Dr. Arsala, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say farther that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led me before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left the Meryton for Ganymede, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.

“The part which I acted is now to be explained. Dr. Haity’s uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching her colleague, we shortly resolved on joining him directly on Ganymede. We accordingly went—and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented an agreement, had it not been seconded by the assurance that I hesitated not in giving, of your friend’s indifference. He had before believed her to share his interests with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Gilborn has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning to the station, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with much satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your friend’s arrival on Ganymede. I knew it myself, as it was known to Dr. Haity; but Dr. Gilborn is perhaps even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your friend’s hopes, it was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient I have not yet learnt to condemn them.

“With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Mr. Owir, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with me. Of what he has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.

“Mr. Owir is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all my supervisor’s affairs, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined Professor Turan to be of service to him; and on Kerth Owir, who was his godson, his kindness was liberally bestowed. Professor Turan supported him at university, and after with hourly-paid tutoring and research support—most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education. My supervisor was not only fond of this young man’s society, whose manners were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping that the academy would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities—the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Professor Turan could not have. Here again I shall give you pain—to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Owir has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character—it adds even another motive.

“My excellent supervisor died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Owir was to last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommend it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow—and for him to obtain his higher degree, desired that a valuable scholarship might be his as soon as it could be created. There was also a prize award of five thousand. His own father did not long survive Professor Turan, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Owir wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking a higher degree, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of going into trade, and I must be aware that the interest of five thousand would be very insufficient to launch such a venture. I rather wished, than believed him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Owir ought not to be an academic; the business was therefore soon settled—he resigned all claim to assistance in the academy, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return fifteen thousand to fund his investments. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to inquire into his further activities or to admit his society in town. In town I believe he chiely lived, but his going into trade was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness, dissipation, and speculation. For about three years I heard little of him; but upon the graduation of the candidate upon whom his scholarship had been preferred, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had invested his money into unprofitable business, and was now absolutely resolved on obtaining a higher degree, if I would present him to the scholarship in question—of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered supervisor’s intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every reptition to it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances—and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I know not. But last summer he was againt most painfully obtruded on my notice.

“I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of myself and Colonel Ab-Aripert. About a year ago, she completed school and an establishment formed for her on Ganymede: and last summer she went with a friend to Harpagia; and thither also went Mr. Owir, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Ms. Yman, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by his connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Ilian, whose straightforward heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to become involved in a scheme which he had concocted precisely to appeal to her better instincts  
and to lure her in without unseemly activities, and to consent to channel certain funds—supposedly his own—through her accounts and to certain interested parties. She was then but twenty, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the transfers were to be finalized, and then Ilian, unable to support the idea of keeping secrets from a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole of the affair to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister’s good name and reputation prevented any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Owir, who left the place immediately, and Ms. Yman was of course removed from my sister’s company. Mr. Owir’s chief object was unquestionably access to my sister’s finances; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.

“This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Owir. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your nature.

“You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Ab-Aripert, who, from our near  
relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the executors of Professor Turan’s will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my friend; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. With these finally words I shall importune you no longer, beyond giving my sincere hopes for your future happiness.

“ARKADY SUSTINH”


	36. Chapter 36

If Dr. Rkemari, when Dr. Sustinh gave her the letter, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion the excited. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she first understand that he believed an apology to be in his power; and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what had happened on the station. She read with an eagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her friend’s indifference she instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst objections to the arrangement, made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence.

But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Owir—when she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself—her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!”—and when she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not regard it, that she would never look in it again.

In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Owir, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of his connection with the Pemberley lab was exactly what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Professor Turan, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Owir had said of the scholarship was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the particulars immediately following of Owir’s resigning all pretensions to an academic living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as fifteen thousand, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality—deliberated on the probability of each statement—but with  
little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again, she read on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Dr. Sustinh’s conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at Mr. Owir’s charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his arrival on the Meryton, in which he had engaged in the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in the hub, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had been known on the Meryton but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Dr. Sustinh; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Dr. Sustinh had described as idleness and vice of many years’ continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighborhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Ms. Sustih, received some confir mation from what had passed between Colonel Ab-Aripert and herself only the morning before; and at last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Ab-Aripert himself—from whom she had previously received the information of his near concern in all his friend’s afairs, and whose character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Dr. Sustinh would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his cousin’s corroboration.

She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Owir and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Paál’s. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Dr. Sustinh—that Dr. Sustinh might leave the station, but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the conference the very next week. She also remembered that, till Dr. Gilborn and the others had quitted the station, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Dr. Sustinh’s character, though he had assured her that respect for the supervisor would always prevent his exposing the student.

How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Ms. Kiruai were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her assets proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her prospects, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Dr. Sustinh, she could not but allowed that Dr. Gilborn, when questioned by Maraa, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance—an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways—seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust—anything that spoke of him of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued—that even Owir had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling; that had his actions been what Mr. Owir represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Dr. Gilborn, was incomprehensible.

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Sustinh nor Owir could she think without feeling she had been partial, prejudiced, absurd.

“How despicably I have acted!” she cried; “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous condour of my friend, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly misled! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.”

From herself to Maraa—from Maraa to Dr. Gilborn, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Sustinh’s explanation there had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that credit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her friend’s interest; and she could not help remembering what Reanne’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Maraa. She felt that Maraa’s preferences, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

When she came to that part of the letter in which her department and colleagues were mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as having passed at the conference, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers.

The compliment to herself and Dr. Arsala was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been self-attracted by the rest of her department; and as she considered that Dr. Arsala’s disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest colleagues, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.

After wandering through the abandoned library for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought—re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her at length return to Ms. Ruminor’s apartment; and she entered the room with a wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as much make her unfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Romulus Hall had each called during her absence; Dr. Sustinh, only for a few minutes, to take leave—but that Colonel Ab-Aripert had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Jenne could but just affect concern in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Ab-Aripert was no longer an object; she could think only of her letters.


	37. Chapter 37

The two gentlemen left Romulus Hall the next morning, and Mr. Enok having been in waiting near the lodge, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring back the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at the Hall. To Romulus Hall he then hastened, to console Professor Deshpande and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from the professor, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

Dr. Rkemari could not see Professor Deshpande without recollecting that, had she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as her future colleague; nor could she think, without a smile, of what the professor’s indignation would have been. “What would she have said? how would she have behaved?” were questions with which she amused herself.

Their first subject was the diminution of the Romulus Hall party. “I assure you, I feel it exceedingly,” said Professor Chandra; “I believe no one feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Sustinh seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His attachment to Romulus Hall and Phobos certainly increases.”

Mr. Enok had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by his patron and her daughter.

Professor Deshpande observed, after dinner, that Dr. Rkemari seemed out of spirits, and immediately accounting for it by herself, by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she added:

“But if that is the case, you must write to your head of department and beg that you may stay a little longer. Ms. Ruminor will be very glad of your company, I am sure.”

“I am much obliged to you for your kind suggestion,” replied Dr. Rkemari, “but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town before the start of term.”

“Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Ms. Ruminor so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Dr. Mtepe could certainly spare you for another fortnight.”

“But the rest of the department cannot. Professor Bernabian wrote last week to encourage my early return.”

“Oh! they of course may spare you, if they simply agree to it. Hourly-paid teaching is never of so much consequence that someone else cannot take it on. And if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take you as far as Ganymede, for I am going there early in June, for the summer; and as Diên does not object to traveling in cargo, there will be very good room for one of you—and indeed, if the asteroid belt happens to be calm, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large.”

“You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our original plan.”

Professor Deshpande seemed resigned. “Ms. Ruminor, you must send a guardbot with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women travelling slow-shuttle by themselves. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my protege Ilian went to Harpaia last summer, I made a point of her having two guardbots go with her. Ms. Sustinh, the sister of Dr. Sustinh, you know, and Ms. Deshpande, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send J2601-s with the young ladies, Ms. Ruminor. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone.”

“The Meryton’s usual shuttle is scheduled to attend here shortly.”

“Oh! Of course. You’ll have private rooms, will you? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you refuel? Oh! Hygiea, of course. If you mention my name to the port-master there, you will be attended to.”

Professor Deshpande had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Dr. Rkemari believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

Dr. Sustinh’s letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His preference excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in the unhappy defects of her connections, a subject of yet heavier chagrin. They were hopeless of remedy. Professor Bernabian, contented with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his younger students; and Dr. Mtepe, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Dr. Rkemari had frequently united with Dr. Arsala in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Kikkuli and Loris; but while they were supported by Dr. Mtepe’s indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Kikkuli, weak-spirited, irritable, and completely under Loris’s guidance, had been always affronted by their advice; and Loris, self-willed and careless, would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While there was an officer on the station, they would flirt with him; and while the hub was within a walk of their department, they would be going there forever.

Anxiety on Dr. Arsala’s behalf was another prevailing concern; and Dr. Sustinh’s explanation, by restoring Gilborn to all her former good opinion, heightened the sense of what Maraa had lost. His interest in her was proved to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for results, Maraa had been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own department!

When to these recollections was added the development of Owir’s character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful.

Their engagements at Romulus Hall were as frequent during the last week of her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent there; and the professor again inquired minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that Moren thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

When they parted, Professor Deshpande, with great condescension, wished them a good journey, and invited them to come to Stickney again next year; and Ms. Deshpande exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to both.


	38. Chapter 38

On the morning of her departure, Dr. Rkemari and Mr. Enok met for breakfast; and he took the opportunity of paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.

“I know not, Dr. Rkemari,” said he, “whether Ms. Ruminor has yet expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to visit her; but I am very certain you will not leave Phobos without receiving her thanks for it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble moon. Our plain manner of living, our limited terraforming and few comforts, and the little we see of the land outside the dome, must make Stickney extremely dull to a scientist like yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending your time unpleasantly.”

Dr. Rkemari was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had spent the last few weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with Reanne, and the kind attentions she had received, must make her feel obliged. Mr. Enok was gratified, and with a more smiling solemnity replied:

“It gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and, from our connection with Romulus Hall, the frequent means of varying the humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your visit here cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to Professor Chandra’s family is indeed the sort of extraordinray advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there. In truth, I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of this humble moonbase, I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are sharers of our intimacy at Romulus Hall.”

Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was obliged to walk about the room, while Dr. Rkemari tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences.

“You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us back to the Meryton, my dear Dr. Rkemari. I flatter myself at least that you will be able to do so. Professor Chandra’s great attentions to Ms. Ruminor that you have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear that your friend has drawn an unfortunate—but on this point it will be as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Dr. Rkemari, that I can from my heart most cordially wish you every equal felicity in your employment. My dear Reanne and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other.”

Dr. Rkemari could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed and rejoiced in her friend’s happy arrangements. She was not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by the lady for whom they were intended. Poor Reanne! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her house and her station, her work and her duties, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.

At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were stowed safely, the parcels placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate parting between the friends, Dr. Rkemari was attended into the shuttle by Mr. Enok, and as they made the short journey to the dock he was commissioning her with his best respects to all her department, not forgetting his thanks for the kindness he had received there in the winter, and his compliments to Dr. and Mr. Esakia, though unknown. He then saw her to the gate, Moren following, and the door was on the point of being closed, when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the party at Romulus Hall.

“But,” he added, “you will of course wish to have your humble respects delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you while you have been here.” 

Dr. Rkemari made no objection; they passed through the gate, and soon were seated upon the shuttle.

“Good gracious!” cried Moren, after a few minutes’ silence, “it seems but a day or two since we first came! and yet how many things have happened!”

“A great many indeed,” said her companion with a sigh.

“We have dined so many times at Romulus Hall, as well has having drunk tea! How much I shall have to tell!”

Jenne added privately, “And how much I shall have to conceal!”

Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and within two days of their leaving Stickney they reached Dr. Esakia’s house, where they were to remain a few days.

Maraa looked well, and Jenne had little opportunity of studying her spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of their host had reserved for them. But Maraa was to return to the Meryton with her, and in their shared office there would be leisure enough for observation. It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for their return to the station, before she told her friend of Dr. Sustinh’s proposals. To know that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish Maraa, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation to openness as nothing could have conquered but the state of indecision in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate; and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into repeating something of Gilborn which might only grieve her friend further.


	39. Chapter 39

It was the second week in June, in which the three young ladies set out together from Ganymede for the Meryton; and, as their shuttle docked, they quickly perceived, in token of the pilot’s punctuality, both Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage waving at them from the other side of the arrivals’ fence. These two had been above an hour in the place, happily employed in admiring the fashions of everyone disembarking, watching the sentinel on guard, and dressing a salad and cucumber.

After welcoming their friends, they triumphantly displayed a table set out with such cold meat as a station larder usually affords, exclaiming, “Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?”

“And we mean to treat you all,” added Loris, “but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shops out there.” Then, showing her purchases—“Look here, I have bought this coat. I do not think it is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any better.”

And when the two doctors abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect unconcern, “Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and when I have brought some prettier-coloured leather to trim it with fresh, I think it shall be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what one wears this summer, when the officers go on leave, and they are going in a fortnight.”

“Are they indeed!” cried Jenne, with the greatest satisfaction.

“They are going to be furloughing on Europa; and I do so wish we all could go there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme; and I dare say would hardly cost nothing at all if we arrange it right. Dr. Mtepe would like to go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall have!”

“Yes,” thought Dr. Rkemari, “that would be a delightful scheme indeed, and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Europa, and a whole campful of officers!”

“Now I have got some news for you,” said Ms. Lovage, as they sat down at table. “What do you think? It is excellent news—capital news—and about a certain person we all like!”

Dr. Rkemari and Dr. Arsala looked at each other, and the waitbot was dismissed. Ms. Lovage laughed, and said:

“Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the waitbot must not hear, as if they cared! I dare say they often hear worse things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone. I have never saw such a rusted chassis in my life. Well, but now for my news: it is about dear Owir; too good for the waiter, is it not? There is no danger of Owir’s partnering with Odoa Kiruai. There’s for you! She has gone into business with her uncle on Calypso; gone to say. Owir is safe.”

“And Ms. Kiruai is safe!” added Dr. Rkemari; “safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune.”

“She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him.”

“But I hope there is no strong interest on either side,” said Dr. Arsala.

“I am sure there is not on his. I will answer for it, he never cared three straws about her work—who could about such a boring little insipid subject?”

Dr. Rkemari was shocked to think that, however incapable of such coarseness of expression herself, the coarseness of the sentiment was little other than her own breast had harboured and fancied liberal!

As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, a suitcase shuttle was ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Ms. Bellamy’s and Ms. Lovage’s purchases, were set off down the corridor.

“How nicely it is all crammed in,” cried Ms. Lovage. “I am glad I bought my coat, if it is only for the fun of having another parcel to balance! Well, now let us be quite comfortable, and talk and laugh all the way back. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all since you went away. Have you done any networking? Have you had any research breakthroughs? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a job before you came back. Dr. Arsala will be quite an MCR soon, I declare. She’s been a post-doc for so long! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not being tenured before forty! Our friend Ms. Paál wants you so to get jobs, you can’t think. She says Jenne had better have taken Mr. Enok’s offer; but I do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord! how I should like to get a job before any of you; and then I would make good connections for you. Dear me! we had such a good piece of fun the other day at Colonel Faroukh’s. Kikkuli and me were to spend the day there, and Ms. Faroukh promised to have a little party in the evening; (by the bye, Ms. Faroukh and me are such friends!) and so she asked the two Hazaris to come, but Yely was ill, and so Adetta was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We dressed up Chichenbene in uniforms on purpose to pass as an officer, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Ms. Faroukh, and Kikkuli and me, except Ms. Paál; and you cannot imagine how well she looked! When Demorvan, and Owir, and Polkerris, and two or three more of the others came in, they did not know her in the least! Lord, how I laughed! and so did Ms. Faroukh. I thought I should have died. And that made the men suspect something, and then they soon found out what was the matter.”

With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did Loris, assisted by Kikkuli’s hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her companion all the way home. Dr. Rkemari listened as little as she could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Owir’s name.

Their reception at the department was most kind. Dr. Mtepe rejoiced to see Dr. Arsala in undiminished poise; and more than once during the next day did Professor Bernabian say voluntarily to Dr. Rkemari:

“I am glad you are come back, Jenne.”

The day of their arrival a large party gathered in the common room, for almost all the Ruminors came to meet Moren and hear the news; and various were the subjects that occupied them: Dame Ruminor was inquiring of Moren, after the welfare and satisfaction of her eldest daughter; Dr. Mtepe was doubly engaged, on one hand collecting an account of recent research news from Dr. Arsala, who sat some way across from her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger Ruminors; and Loris, in a voice rather louder than any other person’s, was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody who would hear her.

“Oh! Suden,” said she, “I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun! As we went along, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought we never should have got all our parcels into the couch. I was ready to die of laughter. And then we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laugh so loud, that anybody might have heard us on the other side of the station!”

To this Ms. Bourgannes gravely replied, “Far be it from me, my dear friend, to depreciate such pleasures! They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of a less educated mind. But I confess they would have no charms for me—I should infinitely prefer a book.”

But of this answer Ms. Lovage heard not a word. She seldom listened to anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Ms. Bourgannes at all.

In the afternoon Loris was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to the hub, and to see how everybody went on; but Dr. Rkemari steadily opposed the scheme. It should not be said that Dr. Rkemari and Dr. Arsala could not be returned half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. There was another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr. Owir again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The comfort to her of the station’s officers approaching removal was indeed beyond expression. In a fortnight they were to go—and once gone, she hoped there could be nothing more to plague her on his account.

She had not been many hours back in her office before she found that the Europa scheme, of which Ms. Lovage had given them a hint at the dock, was under frequent discussion. Dr. Rkemari saw directly that Professor Bernabian had not the smallest intention of assenting; but his answers were at the same time so vague and equivocal, that Dr. Mtepe, though often disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last of securing the necessary funding from him.


	40. Chapter 40

Dr. Rkemari’s impatience to acquaint Dr. Arsala with what had happened could no longer be overcome; and at length, resolving to suppress every particular in which her friend was concerned, and preparing her to be surprised, she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene between Dr. Sustinh and herself.

Dr. Arsala’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong partiality of a friend which made any admiration of Jenne appear perfectly natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was sorry that Dr. Sustinh should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the unhappiness which her friend’s refusal must have given him.

“His being so sure of succeeding was wrong,” said she, “and certainly ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his disappointment!”

“Indeed,” replied Jenne, “I am heartily sorry for him; but he has other feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me. You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?”

“Blame you! Oh, no.”

“But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Owir?”

“No—I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did.”

“But you will know it, when I tell you what happened the very next day.”

She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far as they concerned Kerth Owir. What a stroke was this for poor Maraa! who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here collected in one individual. Nor was Sustinh’s vindication, though grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery. Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and seek to clear the one without involving the other.

“This will not do,” said Dr. Rkemari; “you never will be able to make both of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Sustinh’s; but you shall do as you choose.”

It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Maraa.

“I do not know when I have been more shocked,” said she. “Owir so very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Dr. Sustinh! Dear Jenne, only consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the knowledge of your ill opinion, too! and having to relate such a thing of his sister! It is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it so.”

“Oh! no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am growing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will be as light as a feather.”

“Poor Owir! there is such an expression of goodness in his countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner!”

“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.”

“I never thought Dr. Sustinh so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.”

“And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one’s genius, such an opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot always be laughing at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.”

“Jenne, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat the matter as you do now.”

“Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough, I may say unhappy. And with no one to speak to about what I felt, no Maraa to comfort me and say that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I had! Oh! how I wanted you!”

“How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions in speaking of Owir to Dr. Sustinh, for now they do appear wholly undeserved.”

“Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There is one point of which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand Owir’s character.”

Dr. Arsala paused a little, and then replied, “Surely there can be no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion?”

“That it ought not to be attempted. Dr. Sustinh has not authorised me to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Dr. Sustinh is so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people on the station to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to it. Owir will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity for not knowing it before. At present I will say nothing about it.”

“You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate.”

The tumult of Dr. Rkemari’s mind was allayed by this conversation. She had got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for the recent weeks, and was certain of a willing listener in Dr. Arsala, whenever she might wish to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind, of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the other half of Dr. Sustinh’s letter, nor explain to her friend how sincerely she had been valued by Dr. Gilborn. Here was knowledge in which no one could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off this last encumbrance of mystery. “And then,” said she, “if that very improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to tell what Gilborn may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The liberty of communication cannot be  
mine till it has lost all its value!”

She was now, on being settled back in her office, at leisure to observe the real state of her friend’s spirits. Maraa was not happy. She still cherished a very real preference for Gilborn’s project. Having never even fancied herself set up for a real position before, her regard had all the warmth of a first attachment, and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most first interests often boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance, and prefer his company, that all her good sense, and all her attention to the feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the indulgence of those regrets which must have been injurious to her own health and their tranquility.

“Well, Jenne,” said Dr. Mtepe one day, “what is your opinion now of this sad business of Maraa’s? For my part, I am determined never to speak of it again to anybody. I told Ms. Paál so the other day. But I cannot find out that Maraa saw anything of him on Ganymede. Well, he is a very undeserving young man—and I do not suppose there’s the least chance in the world of her ever getting a job with him now. There is no talk of his coming to the station again in summer; and I have inquired of everybody, too, who is likely to know.

“I do not believe he will work on the Netherfield grant any more.”

“Oh well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come. Though I shall always say he used our student extremely ill; and if I was her, I would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure Maraa will leave academia altogether; and then he will be sorry for what he has done.”

But as Dr. Rkemari could not receive comfort from any such expectation, she made no answer.

“Well, Jenne,” continued Dr. Mtepe, soon afterwards, “and so Ms. Ruminor lives very comfortably, does she? Well, well, I only hope it will last. And what sort of accounts does she keep? Reanne is an excellent manager, I dare say. If she has half as sharp as her mother, she is organised enough. There is nothing extravagant in their arrangements, I dare say.”

“No, nothing at all.”

“A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes. They will take care not to outrun their income. They will never be distressed for money, oh, no. Well, much good may it do her! And so, I suppose, they often talked of shutting down our department? They look upon it as quite the done thing, I dare say, whenever it may happen.”

“It was a subject which they could not mention before me.”

“No; it would have been strange if they had; but I make no doubt they often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with taking away the support of a legitimate research lab, so much the better. I should be ashamed of acting in this way if I were in their place.”


	41. Chapter 41

The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was the last of the weeks before the officers left the Meryton, and all the university were drooping apace. The dejection was almost universal. Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Lovage, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the department.

“Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?” would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. “How can you be smiling so, Jenne?”

Their concerned placement officer shared all their grief; she remembered what she herself endured on similar occasion, five-and-twenty years ago.

“I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two days together when Colonel Mujiang’s ship went away. I thought I should have broken my heart.”

“I am sure I shall break mine,” said Loris.

“If one could but go to Europa!” observed Dr. Mtepe.

“Oh, yes!—if one could but go to Europa! But Professor Bernabian is so disagreeable.”

“A little time off-base would set me up forever.”

“And Ms. Paál is sure it would do me a great deal of good,” added Ms. Bellamy.

Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through the halls of the chemistry department. Dr. Rkemari tried to be diverted by them; but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Dr. Sustinh’s objections; and never had she been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend.

But the gloom of Loris’s prospect was shortly cleared away; for she received an invitation from Ms. Faroukh, the wife of the colonel of the ship, to accompany her to Europa. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Ms. Lovage to each other, and out of their three months’ acquaintance they had been intimate two.

The rapture of Ms. Lovage on this occasion, her adoration of Ms. Faroukh, the delight of Dr. Mtepe, and the mortification of Ms. Bellamy, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her friend’s feelings, Ms. Lovage flew about the halls in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone’s congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kikkuli continued in the common room repined at her fate in terms unreasonable as her accent was peevish.

“I cannot see why Ms. Faroukh should not ask me as well as Loris,” said she, “Though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years old.”

In vain did Dr. Rkemari attempt to make her reasonable, and Dr. Arsala to make her resigned. As for Jenne herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same feelings as in Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Lovage, that she considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it known, she could not help secretly advising Professor Bernabian not to authorise the trip. She represented to him all the improprieties of Ms. Lovage’s general behaviour, the need for her to concentrate on finishing her thesis, the little advantage she could derive from being removed from the station at so crucial a juncture in her studies or from the friendship of such a woman as Ms. Farkouh, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion on Europa, where the temptations must be greater than on a space ship. He heard her attentively, and then said:

“Ms. Lovage will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to the rest of us as under the present circumstances.”

“If you were aware,” said Dr. Rkemari, “of the very great disadvantage to us all which must arise from the public notice of Loris’s unguarded and imprudent manner—nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you would judge differently in the affair.”

“Already arisen?” repeated Professor Bernabian. “What, has she frightened away some of your contacts? Poor little Jenne! But do not be cast down. Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Loris’s folly.”

“Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to re- sent. It is not of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Ms. Lovage’s character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, as head of department, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, and she will be the most determined failure that ever made herself or her department ridiculous; without any attractions beyond youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Ms. Bellamy is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Ms. Lovage leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! Dear Professor Bernabian, can you suppose it is possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that others in their cohort will not be often involved in the disgrace?”

Professor Bernabian saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and affectionately taking her hand said in reply:

“Do not make yourself uneasy, Dr. Rkemari. Wherever you and Dr. Arsala are known you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of very silly colleagues. We shall have no peace on the station of Loris does not go to Europa. Let her go, then. Colonel Faroukh is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too unconnected to be an object of prey to anybody. On Europa, she will be of less importance even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find others better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the rest of her life.”

With this answer Dr. Rkemari was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition.

Had Ms. Lovage and Dr. Mtepe known the substance of her conference with the head of department, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their united volubility. In Loris’s imagination, a visit to Europa comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye of fancy, the streets of that gay place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp—its tents stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once.

Had she known her colleague sought to tear her from such prospects and such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could have been understood only by Dr. Mtepe, who might have felt nearly the same. Ms. Lovage’s going to Europa was all that consoled her for her melancholy conviction of Professor Bernabian’s never intending to fund for her to go there herself.

But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Ms. Lovage’s leaving the station.

Dr. Rkemari was now to see Mr. Owir for the last time. Having been frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions which had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified, and her approval secured at any time by their renewal.

On the very last day of the station officer’s remaining on the Meryton, he dined, with the other of the officers, at a banquet hosted by the university; and so little was Dr. Rkemari disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Stickney, she mentioned Colonel Ab-Aripert’s and Dr. Sustinh’s having both spent three weeks at Romulus Hall, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former. 

He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment’s recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added:

“How long did you say he was on Phobos?”

“Nearly three weeks.”

“And you saw him frequently?”

“Yes, almost every day.”

“His manners are very different from his friend’s.”

“Yes, very different. But I think Dr. Sustinh improves upon acquaintance.”

“Indeed!” cried Mr. Owir with a look which did not escape her. “And pray, may I ask?—” But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, “Is it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility to his ordinary style?—for I dare not hope,” he continued in a lower and more serious tone, “that he is improved in essentials.”

“Oh, no!” said Dr. Rkemari. “In essentials, I believe he is very much what he ever was.”

While she spoke, Owir looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention, while she added:

“When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.”

Owir’s alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the  
gentlest of accents:

“You, who so well know my feeling towards Dr. Sustinh, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. His pride, in that direction, may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, or it must only deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to Professor Deshpande, of whose good opinion and judgement he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding a connection with Ms. Deshpande, which I am certain he has very much at heart.”

Dr. Rkemari could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge him. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish her; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.

When the party broke up, Ms. Lovage returned with Ms. Faroukh to her quarters, from when they were to set out early the next morning. The separation between her and the rest of her department was rather noisy than pathetic. Ms. Bellamy was the only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Dr. Mtepe was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her student, and impressive in her injunction that she should not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible—advice which there was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and in the clamorous happiness of Ms. Lovage herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieus of her friends were uttered without being heard.


	42. Chapter 42

Had Dr. Rkemari’s opinion been all drawn from her own department, she could not have formed a very pleasing opinion of the chances for felicity or comfort in the academic realm. Her head of department, annexed off to chair a department on a low-ranking perambulatory station university, had as staff one whose week understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their partnership put an end to all real collegiality. Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views of tenured happiness were overthrown. But Professor Bernabian was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on by hiring her, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was found of his books and of his chair; and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his department he was very little otherwise indebted, than as their follies and ignorance contributed to his amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his colleagues; but where no other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.

Dr. Rkemari, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her head of department’s behaviour. She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his supportive treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of collegial obligation and decorum which, in exposing his staff to the contempt of his own students, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the students of so unsuitable a department, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged a direction of talens; talents, which, rightly used, might at least have preserved the respectability of his department, even if incapable of enlarging the scope of their influence.

When Dr. Rkemari had rejoiced over Owir’s departure she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the officers. Her external distractions were less varied than before, and in the department she had the constant repinings at the dullness of everything around them from Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Bellamy which threw a real gloom over their academic circle; and, though Kikkuli might in time regain her natural degree of sense and apply herself again to her studies, since the great disturbers of her brain were removed, her fellow student, from whose disposition greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a watering-place and a moon-base. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had been looking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity—to have some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Martian Lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Bellamy made inevitable; and could she have included Dr. Arsala in the scheme, ever part of it would have been perfect.

“But it is fortunate,” thought she, “that I have something to wish for. Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my friend’s absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of pleasure realise. A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by the defence of some little peculiar vexation.”

When Ms. Lovage went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Bellamy; but her letters were always long expected, and always very short. Those to Dr. Mtepe contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers had attended them, and where she had heard such fascinating programmes as made her quite wild; that she had a new computer, or a new phone, which she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Ms. Faroukh called her, and they were going off to the camp; and from her correspondence with her friend, there was still less to be learnt—for her letters to Kikkuli, though rather longer, were much too full of asterisks and italics to be made public.

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear on the station. Everything wore a happier aspect. The station stopped at all the major ports and soon an influx of new students, preparing for the coming year, filled the halls, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Dr. Mtepe was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of June, Ms. Bellamy was so much recovered as to be able to walk to the hub without tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Dr. Rkemari hope that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious arrangement of the USF, another rotation of men should be quartered on the station.

The time fixed for the beginning of their Martian tour was now fast approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Dr. Esakia, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Esakia would be prevented by business from setting out until at least the end of July, and must be back on Ganymede within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up Mars, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the present plan, were to remain within the Jovian system and go no further than Io. On that moon there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks; and to Dr. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The university where she had obtained her degree, and where they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Mare Erythraeum, Arabia Terra, Amazonis Planitia, or the peak of Olympus Mons.

Dr. Rkemari was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing Mars, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it was her business to be satisfied—and certainly her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.

With the mention of Io there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley lab and its PI. “But surely,” said she, “I may enter his country with impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.”

The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away before she could set foot on the shuttle to take her to the Jovian system. But they did pass away, and Dr. and Mr. Esakia, with their four children, did at length appear to greet her on the other side. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger boys, were to be left under the care of a cousin who was a general favorite amongst them and whose steady sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted him for attending to them in every way—teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.

Dr. Rkemari stayed only one night on Ganymede, before the three were to set off on a local shuttle to Io, and they set off the next morning with Jenne in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment was certain—that of suitableness of companions; a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences—cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure—and affection and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad.

It is not the object of this work to give a description of Io, nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither lay; all the Jovian system are sufficiently known. A small part of Io is all the present concern. To the little fort of Lambton, the seat of Dr. Gardiner’s former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance had recently returned, they bent their steps, after having seen all the principal wonders near the moonbase; and within five kilometers of Lambton, Jenne found from her friend that Pemberley lab was situated. It was not in the direct confines of Lambton, nor more than two or three kilometers out of it. In talking over their route the evening before, Dr. Esakia expressed an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Esakia declared his willingness, and Dr. Rkemari was applied to for her approbation.

“My dear, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?” said her friend; “a place, too, with which so many of your acquaintances are connected. Owir’s father was steward there, you know.”

Dr. Rkemari was distressed. She felt that she had no business at the Pemberley lab, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of great labs and libraries; after spending so much time in her own, she really had no pleasure in fine microscopes or leather-bound journals.

Dr. Esakia abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a grand lab richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the clearest skies on the moon.”

Dr. Rkemari said no more—but her mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of meeting Dr. Sustinh, while viewing the place, instantly occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea, and thought it would be better to speak openly to her friend than to run such a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries to the absence of the PI were unfavourably answered. Accordingly, when she retired at night, she inquired of the newsbot whether Pemberley were currently inhabited? what was the name of its PI? and, with no little alarm, whether the lab had been shut up for the summer? A most welcome affirmative followed the last question–and her alarms now being removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the lab herself; and when the subject was revived the next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.


	43. Chapter 43

Dr. Rkemari, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of the university with some perturbation; and when at length they turned in at the gate, her spirits were in a high flutter.

The grounds were very large, and contained great variety of features. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a craggy stone outcropping stretching over a wide extent.

Jenne’s mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the crags ceased and the eye was instantly caught by the main building of the lab, situated on an opposite side of a flat plateau, across which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high volcanic rock; and in front, a crevice of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Dr. Rkemari was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to work in a lab like this might be something!

They crossed the plain, circled the building, and drove to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the facade, all her apprehension of meeting its proprietor returned. She dreaded least the newsbot had been mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the foyer; and Dr. Rkemari, as they waited for a tourguide, had leisure to wonder at her being where she was.

The tourguide came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the outer lab. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Dr. Rkemari, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The plain, decorated with rocky precipices, receiving increasing abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the crevice, the rocks scattered on its banks and the winding of the path across the plain, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into other rooms these objects were taking different positions and proportions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of its proprietor; but Jenne saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor useless; with less of splendour, and more of real elegance, than the fittings at Romulus Hall.

“And in this place,” she thought, “I might have been firmly established! With these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors Dr. and Mr. Esakia. But no,”—recollecting herself—“that could never be; my contacts and colleagues would have been lost to me; I should not have been allowed to invite them.”

This was a lucky recollection—it saved her from something very like regret.

She longed to inquire of the tourguide whether Dr. Sustinh were really absent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the question was asked by Mr. Esakia; and she turned away with alarm, while Ms. Huan-Roh replied that he was adding, “But we expect him on next week’s shuttle, with a large party of colleagues.” How rejoiced Jenne that their own journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a week!

Dr. Esakia now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the likeness of Mr. Owir, suspended, amongst several other miniatures, near the information board in the front foyer. Her friend asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. The tourguide came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young gentleman, the son of the late steward of the lab, who had been educated there. “He is now gone into the army,” she added; “but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”

Dr. Esakia looked at her friend with a smile, but Jenne could not return it.

“And that,” said Ms. Huan-Roh, pointing to another of the miniatures, “is the head of the lab—and very like him. It was taken at the same time as the other—about eight years ago.”

“I have heard much of Dr. Sustinh’s fine person,” said Dr. Esakia, looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Jenne, you can tell us whether it is like or not.”

Ms. Huan-Roh’s respect for Dr. Rkemari seemed to increase on this intimation of her knowing the head of the lab.

“Does that young lady know Dr. Sustinh?”

Dr. Rkemari coloured, and said: “A little.”

“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma’am?”

“Yes, very handsome.”

“I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. The images on this board are but rarely updated.”

This accounted to Jenne for Mr. Owir’s being among them.

Ms. Huan-Roh then directed their attention to one of Ms. Sustinh, drawn when she had first matriculated.

“And is Ms. Sustinh as handsome as her brother?” said Dr. Esakia.

“Oh! yess—the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished!—She codes and decants all day long. In the next room is a new instrument just come down for her—a present from her brother; she comes here to-morrow with him.”

Mr. Esakia, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Ms. Huan-Roh, either by pride or loyalty, had evidently great pleasure in talking of Dr. Sustinh and his sister.

“Is he much at the lab in the course of the year?”

“Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time here; and Ms. Sustinh is always down here for her summer vacation.”

“Except,” thought Dr. Rkemari, “when she goes to Harpagia.”

“If he were to secure a partner, you might see more of him.”

“Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him.”

Dr. and Mr. Esakia smiled. Dr. Rkemari could not help saying, “It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so.”

“I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,” replied the other. Dr. Rkemari thought this was going pretty far; and she listened with increasing astonishment as the tourguide added, “I have never known a cross word from him in my entire time here, and I have known him since he first matriculated.”

This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion. Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for saying:

“There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a boss.”

“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when young, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always renowned as the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.”

Dr. Rkemari almost stared at her. “Can this be Dr. Sustinh?” thought she.

“His supervisor was an excellent man,” said Dr. Esakia. “I knew him slightly.”

“Yes, ma’am, that he was indeed; and his successor will be just like him—just as affable and beneficent.”

Dr. Rkemari listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Ms. Huan-Roh could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects of the pictures, the number and types of tools in the lab, and the price of the equipment, in vain. Mr. Esakia, highly amused by the kind of prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her boss, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with  
energy on his many merits as they proceeded together up to the second storey.

“He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said she, “that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his PhD students or staff but will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.”

“In what an amiable light does this place him!” thought Jenne.

“This fine account of him,” whispered Dr. Esakia as they walked, “is not quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.”

“Perhaps we might be deceived.”

“That is not very likely; our authority was too good.”

On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty library, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the offices below; and were there informed that it was but just done to give space to Ms. Sustinh, who had taken a liking to the room when last at the lab.

“He is certainly a good brother,” said Dr. Rkemari, as she walked towards one of the windows.

Ms. Huan-Roh anticipated Ms. Sustinh’s delight, when she should enter the room. “And this is always the way with him,” she added. “Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her.”

The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal offices, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; but Dr. Rkemari knew nothing of art; and from such as had been already visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Ms. Sustinh, in ink and pencil, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also less intelligible.

In the gallery there were many portraits of past professors, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Dr. Rkemari walked in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her—and she beheld a striking resemblance to Dr. Sustinh, with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Ms. Huan-Roh informed them that it had been taken when he first took over the lab.

There was certainly at this moment, in Dr. Rkemari’s mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Ms. Huan-Roh was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an educated employee? As a brother, an employer, a supervisor, she considered how many people’s happiness were in his guardianship!—how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!—how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the tourguide was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.

When all of the lab that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the tourguide, were consigned over to the guard, who met them at the side-door.

As they walked from the hall towards the plain, Dr. Rkemari turned back to look again; Dr. Esakia and her husband stopped also, and while the latter was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the proprietor of it himself suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the garage.

They were within twenty meters of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Dr. Rkemari, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least with perfect civility.

She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Dr. Sustinh, the guard’s expression of surprise, on beholding his employer, must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while he was talking to their friend, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil inquiries after her colleagues. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having left the Meryton, and of her having stayed on Io, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.

At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave.

The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but Dr. Rkemari heard not a word, and wholly engrossed in her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he thus come a week before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived—that moment alighted from his phaeton or his shuttle. She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered!—what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was amazing!—but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to his last address on Stickney, when he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to account for it.

They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the crevice, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a fine reach of the outcropping to which they were approaching; but it was some time before Dr. Rkemari was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of her friends, and seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of the building, whichever it might be, where Dr. Sustinh then was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind—in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure.

At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.

They reached the edge of the plain, and bidding adieu to the crevice for awhile, ascended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of the rocky outcroppings gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the plateau, the opposite hills, with the long range overspreading, and occasionally part of the crevice. Mr. Esakia expressed a wish of going round the whole grounds, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles around. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent back towards the crevice and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the plateau, here contracted to a glen, allowed room only for the crevice, and a narrow walk amidst the rough pumice which bordered it. Dr. Rkemari longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the building, Dr. Esakia, who was not a great walker, could go no further, and thought only of returning to their phaeton as soon as possible. Her friend was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the hall on the opposite side of the crevice, in the nearest direction; but their progress was slow, for Mr. Esakia, though seldom able to indulge in the taste, was very fond of lichen, and was so much engaged in peering at the occasional appearance of some lichen on a rock, and talking to the guard about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again surprised, and Dr. Rkemari’s astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Dr. Sustinh approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk here being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Dr. Rkemari, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words “delightful” and “charming”, when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no more.

Dr. Esakia was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people agianst whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself. “What will be his surprise,” thought she, “when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of import.”

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named Dr. Esakia’s relationship to herself via Dr. Mtepe, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Dr. Esakia. Dr. Rkemari could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had some connections for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her friend, which marked her intelligence, her knowledge, or her education.

The conversation soon turned upon research; and she heard Dr. Sustinh invite Dr. Esakia, with the greatest civility, to make use of his lab and equipment as often as she chose while they continued in the neighborhood, offering at the same time to extend the invitation to Dr. Rkemari as well, and pointing out some new arrivals which may be of particular interest to Dr. Esakia's own specialisation. Mr. Esakia, who was walking behind with Jenne, gave her a look expressive of wonder. Dr. Rkemari said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme; and continually was she repeating, “Why is he so altered? Fro what can it proceed? It cannot be for me—it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Stickney could not work such a change as this. It is impossible that he should still be interested in me.”

After walking some time in this way, their host and Dr. Esakia in front, the other two behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink of the crevice for the better inspection of some curious plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Dr. Esakia, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found herself in need of a moment to rest and recover herself, in which Mr. Esakia joined her. Dr. Sustinh took his place by Dr. Rkemari, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been very unexpected—“for your tourguide,” she added, “informed us that you would certainly not be here till the next week’s shuttle; and, indeed, before we left this morning, we understood that you were not immediately expected on Io.” He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward before the rest of the part with whom he had been travelling. “They will join me in the next week,” he continued, “and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you—Dr. Gilborn and Dr. Haity.”

Dr. Rkemari answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Dr. Gilborn’s name had been the last mentioned between them; and, if he might judge by his complexion, his mind was not very differently engaged.

“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Io?”

The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt that whatever desire Ms. Sustinh might have of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.

They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Dr. Rkemari was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the shuttle, Dr. and Mr. Esakia were half a quarter of a mile behind.

He then asked her to walk into the lab—but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on the stoop. At such a time much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that she had been travelling, and they talked of the trip from Ganymede to Io with great perseverance. Yet time and her friend moved slowly—and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tête-à-tête was over.

On Dr. and Mr. Esakia’s coming up they were all pressed to go into the building and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Dr. Sustinh handed the ladies into the shuttle; and when it drove off, Dr. Rkemari saw him walking slowly towards the lab.

The observations of her friends now began; and each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. “He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said Mr. Esakia.

“There is something a little stately in him, to be sure,” replied Dr. Esakia, “but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with the tourguide, that though some people may call him proud, I have seen nothing of it.”

“I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with Jenne was very trifling.”

“To be sure, Jenne,” said Dr. Esakia, “he is not so handsome as Owir; or, rather, he has not Owir’s countenance, for his features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?”

Dr. Rkemari excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked him better when they had met on Phobos than before, and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.

“But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,” replied Mr. Esakia. “Your great men often are; and therefore I shall warn you not take him at his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn you off his grounds.”

Dr. Rkemari felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but said nothing.

“From what we have seen of him,” continued Dr. Esakia, “I really should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by anybody as he has done by poor Owir. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasant about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good woman who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character! I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal boss, I suppose, and that in the eye of an employee comprehends every virtue.”

Dr. Rkemari here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his behaviour to Owir; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his friend on Phobos, his actions were capable of a very different construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor Owir’s so amiable, as they had been considered on the Meryton. In confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.

Dr. Esakia was surprised and concerned; but as they were not approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning’s walk they had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after many years’ discontinuance.

The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Dr. Rkemari much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of Dr. Sustinh’s civility, and, above all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.


	44. Chapter 44

Dr. Rkemari had settled it that Dr. Sustinh would bring his sister to visit her the very day after her reaching Io; and was consequently resolved not to be out of sight of their hotel the whole of that morning. Her resolve was brought to fruition for on the very morning after her arrival, these visitors came. She and the Esakias had been walking about the place with  
some of their new friends, and were just returning to the hotel to change before dining with the same family, when the sound  
of a carriage drew them to a widow and they saw a gentleman and a lady in a curricle driving up the street. Dr. Rkemari immediately recognising the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her surprise to her friends by acquainting them with the honour which she expected. Dr. and Mr. Esakia were all amazement; and the embarrassment of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many of the circumstances of the earlier day, opened to them a new idea of the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they felt that there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a quarter than by supposing a partiality for their friend. While these newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of Jenne’s feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite amazed at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.

She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of inquiring surprise in Dr. Esakia as made everything worse.

Ms. Sustinh and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction took place. With astonishment did Jenne see that her new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her being on Io, she had heard that Ms. Sustinh was exceedingly proud; but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a monosyllable.

Ms. Sustinh was tall, and on a larger scale than Jenne; and, though still working on her doctorate, her thesis project already well-formed, and her education wide and thoughtful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Dr. Rkemari, who had expected to find her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Dr. Sustinh had been, was much relieved by discerning such different feelings.

They had not long been together before Dr. Sustinh told her that Dr. Gilborn was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Dr. Gilborn’s quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All Dr. Rkemari’s anger against him had been long done away; but had she still felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He inquired in a friendly, though general way, after her colleagues, and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done.

To Dr. and Mr. Esakia he was scarcely a less interesting personage than to herself. They had long wished to meet him. The whole party before them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just arisen of Dr. Sustinh and Dr. Rkemari directed their observation towards each with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew from those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what it was to love. Of the lady’s sensations they remained a little in doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident enough.

Dr. Rkemari, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Gilborn was ready, Ilian was eager, and Dr. Sustinh determined, to be pleased.

In seeing Dr. Gilborn, her thoughts naturally flew to her friend; and, oh! how ardently she did long to know whether any of his were directed in a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion that, as he looked at her, he was trying to revive a memory. But, though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour to Ms. Sustinh, who had been set up as a rival to Dr. Arsala. No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that could justify the speculations of Dr. Haity. On this point she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Maraa not untinctured by approbation, and a wish of saying more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, that it “was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her;” and, before she could reply, he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all conversing together at  
my conference.”

Dr. Rkemari was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether all her colleagues were still on the station. There was not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which gave them meaning.

It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Dr. Sustinh himself; but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that the improvement of manners which she had so recently witnessed however temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived a week. When she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a disgrace—when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the very friends and connections whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene at Stickney—the difference, the change was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of his dear friends in the lab, or his dignified connections at Romulus Hall, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of the Netherfield lab and Romulus Hall.

Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose to depart, Dr. Sustinh called on his sister to join him in expressing their wish of seeing Dr. and Mr. Esakia, and Dr. Rkemari, to dinner at their house, before they left Io. Ms. Sustinh, though with a diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed. Dr. Esakia looked at her friend, desirous of knowing how she, whom the invitations most concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Dr. Rkemari had turned away her head. Presuming however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.

Dr. Gilborn expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Dr. Rkemari again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to make after all their friends on the station. Dr. Rkemari, construing all this into a wish of hearing her speak of her friend, was pleased, and on this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their visitors left them, capable of considering the last half-hour with some satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her friends, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Gilborn, and then hurried away to her room.

But she had not reason to fear Dr. and Mr. Esakia’s curiosity; it was not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was much better acquainted with Dr. Sustinh than they had before any idea of it; it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much of interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.

Of Dr. Sustinh it was not a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character from their own feelings and his employee’s report, without any reference to any other account, the circle on the station to which he was known would not have recognized it for Dr. Sustinh. There was now an interest, however, in believe the tourguide; and they soon became sensible that the authority of an employee who had known him for soe years, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of their local friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small mining-town where the family did not much visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal man, and did  
much good among the poor.

With respect to Owir, the travellers soon found that he was not held there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the student of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known fact that, on his quitting Io, he had left many debts behind him, which Dr. Sustinh afterwards discharged.

As for Dr. Rkemari, her thoughts were of the lab this evening more than previously; and for the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that premise; and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened into 351somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; gratitude not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude—for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of his addresses.

It had been settled in the evening between Dr. Esakia and Dr. Rkemari, that such a striking civility as Ms. Sustinh’s in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival on Io, for she had reached it only to a late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be qualled, by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that it would be highly expedient to wait on her for coffee the following morning. They were, therefore, to go. Dr. Rkemari was pleased; though when she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.

Mr. Esakia left them soon after breakfast. The lichen-hunting scheme had been renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting some of the gentlemen from the lab before noon.


	45. Chapter 45

Convinced as Dr. Rkemari now was that Dr. Haity’s dislike of her had originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her appearance must be to her, and was curious to know with how much civility on that lady’s side the acquaintance would now be renewed.

On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high rocky crags behind the house, and of the beautiful kettles and moraines which were scattered over the intermediate plain.

In this house they were received by Ms. Sustinh, who was sitting there with Dr. Haity den Souwga, and her supervisor from Ganymede. Ilian’s reception of them was very civil, but attended with all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior the belief of her being proud and reserved. Dr. Esakia and Dr. Rkemari, however, did her justice, and pitied her.

By Dr. Haity they were noticed only by a curtsey; and, on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Dr. Ahng, a genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than the other; and between her and Dr. Esakia, with occasional help from Dr. Rkemari, the conversation was carried on. Ms. Sustinh looked as if she wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.

Dr. Rkemari soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Dr. Haity, and that she could not speak a word, especially to Ms. Sustinh, without calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she feared that the master of the lab might be amongst them; and whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Dr. Haity’s voice, Dr. Rkemari was roused by receiving from her a cold inquiry after the health of her colleagues. She answered with equal indifference and brevity, and the other said no more.

The next variation which their visit afford was produced by the entrance of a housebot with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many a significant look and smile from Dr. Ahng to Ms. Sustinh had been given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole party—for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them round the table.

While thus engaged, Dr. Rkemari had a fair opportunity of deciding whether she most feared or wished for the appearance of Dr. Sustinh, by the feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to regret that he came.

He had been some time with Mr. Esakia, who, with two or three other gentlemen from the lab, was engaged by the crevice, and had left him only on learning that his wife and Dr. Rkemari intended a visit to Ilian that morning. No sooner did he appear than Dr. Rkemari wisely resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly marked as in Dr. Haity’s, in spite of the smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions to Dr. Sustinh were by no means over. Ms. Sustinh, on her brother’s entrance, exerted herself much more to talk, and Dr. Rkemari saw that he was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquaintaed, and forwarded as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Dr. Haity saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility;

“Pray, Dr. Rkemari, are not the officers in training removed from the Meryton? They must be a great loss to your department’s circumstances.”

In Sustinh’s presence she dared not mention Owir’s name; but Jenne instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the various recollections connected with him gave her a moment’s distress; but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Sustinh, with a heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Dr. Haity known what pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose Dr. Rkemari by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in Sustinhs’ opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies and absurdities by which some part of her department were connected with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Ms. Sustinh’s digressions. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Dr. Rkemari; and from all Gilborn’s connections Dr. Sustinh was particularly anxious to conceal it, from the very wish which Dr. Rkemari had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Dr. Arsala, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend.

Dr. Rkemari’s collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and as Dr. Haity, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to Owir, Ilian also recovered in time, though not enough to be able to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which had been designed to turn his thoughts from Dr. Rkemari seemed to have fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.

Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above mentioned; and while Dr. Sustinh was attending them to their carriage Dr. Haity was venting her feelings in criticisms on Dr. Rkemari’s person, behaviour, and dress. But Ilian would not join her. Her brother’s recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not err. And he had spoken in such terms of Jenne as to leave Ilian without the power of finding her othrewise than lovely and amiable. When Sustinh returned to the saloon, Dr. Haity could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.

“How very ill Dr. Jenne Rkemari looked this morning, Dr. Sustinh,” she cried; “I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! I am quite sure that I should not have known her again.”

However little Dr. Sustinh might have liked such an address, he contented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.

“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see anything of interest in her. Her research is too minute; her publication record most week; and her ideas are not at all agreeable. Her proposals lack character—there is nothing marked in their lines. Her teaching, I’m sure, is tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable.”

Persuaded as Dr. Haity was that Sustinh admired Dr. Rkemari, this was not the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a determination of making him speak, she continued:

“I remember, when we first knew her on the Meryton, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed scholar; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining with us, ‘She a scholar!—I should as soon call Dr. Mtepe a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought rather well of her at one time.”

“Yes,” replied Sustinh, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the finest women of my acquaintance.”

He then went away, and Dr. Haity was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.

Dr. Esakia and Dr. Rkemari talked of all that had occurred during their visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked of his sister, his colleagues, his house, his fruit—of everything but himself; yet Dr. Rkemari was longing to know what Dr. Esakia thought of him, and Dr. Esakia would have been highly gratified by her friend’s beginning the subject.


	46. Chapter 46

Dr. Rkemari had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from Dr. Arsala on their first arrival on Io; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but eventually her repining was over, and her friend justified, by the receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Dr. Rkemari was not surprised at it, as Dr. Arsala written the direction remarkably ill.

They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and Dr. and Mr. Esakia, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had been written a week ago. The beginning contained an account of all their lectures and seminars, with such news as Ganymede afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:

“Since writing the above, dearest Jenne, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Ms. Lovage. An express came quite late yesterday, just as we were departing, from Colonel Faroukh, to inform us that she was gone off with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Owir! Imagine our surprise. To Ms. Bellamy, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent an elopement on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing criminal at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know her part in the project is but minimal. Poor Dr. Mtepe is sadly grieved. Professor Bernabian bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night, on the twelve o’clock shuttle, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning. The express was sent off directly My dear Jenne, we must have passed trajectories with them! Colonel Faroukh gives us reason to expect him back on the station soon. Ms. Lovage left a few lines for his wife, informing her of her intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long away from dear Dr. Mtepe. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.”

Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Dr. Rkemari on finishing this letter instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

“By this time, my dearest friend, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Jenne, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as Ms. Lovage’s running off with Mr. Owir would be, we are now anxious to be assured that it is nothing more than that, for there is but too much reason to fear that they have met up with members of the opposing side. Colonel Faroukh returned yesterday, having left Europa on the next shuttle. Though Loris’s short letter to Ms. F. gave them to understand that they were headed to Greatfort, something was dropped by Demorvan expressing their belief that O. never intended to go there, but rather to another place, where he had connections that Colonel F. had not previously known, which was repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, sett off from E. intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Castalia, but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a shuttle, and dismissed the phaeton that had brought them from the base. All that is known after this is, that they were seen heading towards the farside shuttle docks. I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry into the departing shuttle records, Colonel F. departed Europa himself, anxiously hoping that by return to his more extensive connections and associates he might better help trace them, but without any success—no such people had been seen to pass through the checkpoints, it was as if they had entirely removed themselves. With the kindest concern he came to our department, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Ms. F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Jenne, is very great. Professor Bernabian and Dr. Mtepe believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of them. Many circumstances might make it more understandable that she would go off with him; and even if he has formed an evil design against a young woman of Ms. Lovage’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon this; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared O. was not a man to be trusted. Dear Dr. Mtepe is really ill, and keeps to her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And as to Professor Bernabian, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Ms. Bellamy has anger for having concealed their arrangements; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Jenne, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come to the station as soon as possible. I know dear Dr. and Mr. Esakia so well, that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. Professor Bernabian is going to Ganymede with Colonel Faroukh instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Faroukh is obliged to be at Europa as soon as he possibly can obtain a shuttle. In such an exigence, Mr. Esakia’s assistance and connections would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.”

“Oh! where, where are the Esakias?” cried Dr. Rkemari, darting from her seat as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow them, without losing a moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it was opened by a housebot, and Dr. Sustinh appeared. Her pale face and impetuous manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Ms. Lovage’s situation, hastily exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Esakia this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not an instant to lose.”

“Good God! what is the matter?” cried he, with more feeling than politeness; then recollecting himself, “I will not detain you a minute; but let me, or let the servant go after Dr. and Mr. Esakia. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself.”

Dr. Rkemari hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back the housebot, therefore, she commissioned it, though in so breathless an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch its master and mistress home instantly.

On the bot’s quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Sustinh to leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, “Let me call a housebot. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.”

“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from my department.”

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Sustinh, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. At length she spoke again. “I have just had a letter from Dr. Arsala, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. One of our students, Ms. Lovage, has left all her friends–has run off; has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr. Owir. They are gone off together from the camp at Europa. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no prospects, no connections, nothing that can tempt him—she is lost forever.”

Sustinh was fixed in astonishment. “When I consider,” she added in a yet more agitated voice, “that I might have prevented it! I who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt, to my own department! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all—all too late now.”

“I am grieved indeed,” cried Sustinh; “grieved—shocked. But is it certain—absolutely certain?”

“Oh, yes! They left the Europa camp together on Saturday night, and were traced in the direction of the opposite side of the moon, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Greatfort.”

“And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her and her research?”

“Professor Bernabian is gone to Ganymede, and Dr. Arsala has written to beg Mr. Esakia’s immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, on the next shuttle. But nothing can be done—I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”

Sustinh shook his head in silent acquiescence.

“When my eyes were opened to his real character—Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not—I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!”

Sustinh made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy. Dr. Rkemari soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her power was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of weakness and profligacy on account of her connections, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she valued him, as now, when all such hopes must be in vain.

But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Ms. Lovage—the humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up every private care; and covering her face with her hand, Dr. Rkemari was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, “I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at the lab to-day.”

“Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Ms. Sustinh. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long.”

He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only one serious, parting look, went away.

As he quitted the room, Dr. Rkemari felt how improbable it was that they should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had marked their several meetings on Io; and as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its termination.

If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of partnership, Dr. Rkemari’s change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise—if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Owir, and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go with regret; and in this early example of what Ms. Lovage’s infamy must produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched business. Never, since reading Dr. Arsala’s second letter, had she entertained a hope to Owir’s plans being in any way moderate or rational. No one but Dr. Arsala, she thought, could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least of her feelings on this development. While the contents of the first letter remained in her mind, she was all surprise—all astonishment that Owir should abscond with a junior researcher whom it would be impossible to have any real knowledge of the project; and how Ms. Lovage could ever have been engaged to attend to his plans had appeared incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment as this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose Loris to be deliberately engaging in an ill-advised arrangement without any attention to her future, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her education nor her understanding would preserver her from falling an easy prey.

She had never perceived, while the regiment was on the station, that Ms. Lovage had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that Loris wanted only encouragement to make herself available to anybody. Sometimes one officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been fluctuating but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards such a girl—oh! how acutely did she now feel it!

She was wild to be back on the station—to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to share with Dr. Arsala in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a department so dysfunctional, with an absent head, a placement officer incapable of exertion, and requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing could be done for Ms. Lovage, Mr. Esakia’s interference seemed of the utmost importance, and till he entered the room her impatience was severe. Dr. and Mr. Esakia had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the housebot’s message that their friend was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of the last with trembling energy.— Though Ms. Lovage had never been a favourite with Dr. Esakia, she and Mr. Esakia could not but be deeply afflicted. Not Ms. Lovage only, but all were concerned in it; and after the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Esakia promised every assistance in his power. Dr. Rkemari, though expecting no less, thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, everything relating to their journey was speedily settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. “But what is to be done about the Sustinhs?” cried Dr. Esakia. “JJ2601-s told us Dr. Sutinsh was here when you sent for us; was it so?”

“Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. That is all settled.”

“What is all settled?” repeated the other, as she ran into her room to prepare. “And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!”

But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in the hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Dr. Rkemari been at leisure to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of business as well as her friends, and amongst the rest there were notes to be written to all their friends, old and new, with false excuses for their sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr. Esakia meanwhile having settled his account at the hotel, nothing remained to be done but to go; and Dr. Rkemari, after all the misery of the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the way to the shuttle base.


	47. Chapter 47

“I have been thinking it over again, Jenne,” said Dr. Esakia, as they drove from the town; “and really, upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge as Dr. Arsala does on the matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form a disastrous partnership involving someone who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel’s family, that I am strongly inclined to hope for the best. Could he expect that her colleagues would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Faroukh? His temptation is not adequate to the risk!”

“Do you really think so?” cried Dr. Rkemari, brightening up for a moment.

“Upon my word,” said Mr. Esakia, “I begin to be of Emmeline’s opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and interest, for him to be giulty of. I cannot think so very ill of Owir. Can you yourself, Jenne, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?”

“Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other neglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Greatfort if that had been the case?”

“In the first place,” replied Dr. Esakia, “there is no absolute proof that they are not gone to Greatfort.”

“Oh! but their removing from the chaise into the hackney coach is such a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the Bastable track.”

“Well, then—supposing them to be on Ganymede. They may be there, though for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. It is not likely that money or connections should be very abundant on either side; and it might strike them that it would be more economical, though less expeditious, to shelter on Ganymede than to remain on Europa.”

“But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their partnership be private? Oh, no, no—this is not likely. His most particular friend, you see by Maraa’s account, was persuaded of his never intending to be honest with her. Owir will never succeed in his plans without some money. He cannot afford it. And what claims has Loris—what attractions beyond amiability, malleability, and her connection to the department, that could make him, for her sake, forego every chance of benefiting himself in an honest profession? As to what restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a dishonourable arrangement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your other objections, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Loris has no lawyers to step forward; and he might imagine, from Professor Bernabian’s behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in his department, that he would do as little, and think as little about it, as any head of department could do, in such a matter.”

“But can you think that Ms. Lovage is so lost to everything but the shine of the contract as to consent to work with him on any reasonable terms?”

“It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed,” replied Dr. Rkemari, with tears in her eyes, “that a friend’s sense of decency and virtue in such a point should admit of a doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never been taught to think seriously on subjects; and for the last half-year, nay, for the whole of her master’s degree—she has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity, with little to show for it at the end. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that come in her way. Since the regiment were first quartered on the Meryton, nothing but flirtation and officers have been in her head. She has been doing everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give greater—what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are naturally lively enough. And we all know that Owir has every charm of person and address that can captivate a person.”

“But you see that Maraa,” said Dr. Esakia, “does not think so very ill of Owir as to believe him capable of the plan.”

“Of whom does Maraa ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be their former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt, till it were proved against them? But Maraa knows, as well as I do, what Owir really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.”

“And do you really know all this?” cried Dr. Esakia, whose curiosity as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.

“I do indeed,” replied Dr. Rkemari, colouring. “I told you, the other day, of his infamous behaviour to Dr. Sustinh; and you yourself, when last on the Meryton, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other circumstances which I am not at liberty—which it is not worthwhile to relate; but his lies about the whole family are endless. From what he said of Ms. Sustinh I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found her.”

“But does Ms. Lovage know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you and Dr. Arsala seem so well to understand?”

“Oh, yes!—that, that is the worst of all. Till I was on Phobos, and saw so much of both Dr. Sustinh and his friend Colonel Ab-Aripert, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the regiment was to leave the station in a week or fortnight’s time. As that was the case, neither Maraa, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could it apparently be to anyone, that the good opinion which all the neighborhood had of him should then be overthrown? And when even it was settled that Ms. Lovage should go with Ms. Faroukh, the necessity of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That she could be in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a consequence as this could ensue, you may easily believe, was far enough from my thoughts.”

“When they all removed to Europa, therefore, you had no reason, I suppose, to believe them involved with each other?”

“Not the slightest. I can remember no particular attention on either side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware that ours is not a department on which it could be thrown away. When first he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all were. Every student on the Meryton was fascinated by him for the first two months; but he never distinguished her by any particular notice; and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites.”

It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey. From Dr. Rkemari’s thoughts it was never absent. Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.

They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, despite a slight delay from a meteor shower, they docked at the Meryton by dinner time the next day. It was a comfort of Dr. Rkemari to consider that Dr. Arsala could not have been wearied by long expectations.

Upon its arrival at the station, Dr. Rkemari jumped out of the shuttle; and, after hastily procuring a quick chaise to the department, hurried into the vestibule, where Maraa, who came running down from Dr. Mtepe’s office, immediately met her.

Dr. Rkemari, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been heard of the fugitives. “Not yet,” replied Maraa. “But now that Mr. Esakia is come, I hope everything will be well.”

“Is Professor Bernabian on Ganymede?”

“Yes, he went on the last shuttle, as I wrote you word.”

“And have you heard from him often?”

“We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write again till he had something of importance to mention.”

“And Dr. Mtepe—how is she? How are you all?”

“Dr. Mtepe is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly shaken. She is up stairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. She does not much leave her office. Ms. Bellamy and Ms. Bourgannes, thank Heaven, are quite well.”

“But you—how are you?” cried Jenne. “You look pale. How much you must have gone through!”

Her friend, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their conversation, which had been passing while Dr. and Mr. Esakia were engaged in refreshing themselves, was now put an end to by their approach. Dr. Arsala ran to them, and welcomed and thank them both, with alternate smiles and tears.

When they were all in the common room, the questions which Dr. Rkemari had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon found that Dr. Arsala had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, that it was all a confusion or a mistake, and that every morning would bring some letter, either from Ms. Lovage or Professor Bernabian to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce their plans.

Dr. Mtepe, to whose office they then repaired, after a few minutes’ conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Owir, and complaints of her own suffering and ill-usage; blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her student must principally be owing.

“If we had been able,” said she, “to carry my point in going to Europa, with the entire department, this would not have happened; but poor dear Ms. Lovage had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Faroukhs ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the kind of student to do such a thing if she had been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor deer child! And now here’s Professor Bernabian gone away, and I know he will sue Owir, wherever he meets him, and then he will be backrupted, and what is to become of us all? The Review Board will turn us out before we can even catch our breath, and if the university is not kind to us, I do not know what we shall do.”

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Esakia, after general assurances of the sensibility and rationality of Professor Bernabian, told her that he meant to return to Ganymede the very next day, and would assist the Professor in every endeavour for recovering Ms. Lovage.

“Do not give way to useless alarm,” added Dr. Esakia; “though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is just over a week since they left Europa, so we assume. In a few days more we may gain some news of them; and till we know that they have truly set off on this venture, and have no designs of backing out, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as we get to Ganymede Mr. Esakia shall go to the Professor, and make him come home to ours; and then we may consult together as to what is to be done.”

“Oh! my dear friend,” replied Dr. Mtepe, “that is exactly what I could most wish for. and now do, when you get moonside, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not yet committed on this path, then tell Ms. Lovage that if only she returns to us she shall have as much money as she chooses to support herself here. And, above all, keep Professor Bernabian from suing Mr. Owir. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my wits—and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me—such spasms in my side and paints in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Loris not to give any directions about her return to the station until she has communicated with me, for she does not know which are the best shuttles. Oh, my friend, how kind you are! I know you will contrive it all.”

But Dr. and Mr. Esakia, though they assured her again of their earnest endeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fear; and after talking with her in this manner till dinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings on the catering staff, who attended in the absence of the remaining students.

Though Dr. and Mr. Esakia were persuaded that there was no real occasion for such a seclusion from the others, they did not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her tongue in public, while they waited for a table in the main cafeteria, and judged it better that only those in the department whom they could most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.

In the common room they were later joined by Ms. Bourgannes and Ms. Bellamy, who had been too busily engaged in their separate offices to make their appearance before. One came from her books, and the other from her instruments. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that the loss of her favorite friend, or the anger which she had herself incurred in this business, had given more of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Ms. Bellamy. As for Ms. Bourgannes, she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Dr. Rkemari, with a countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated:

“This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of friendly consolation.”

Then, perceiving in Dr. Rkemari no inclination of replying, she added, “Unhappy as these events must be for Ms. Lovage, we may draw from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a woman is irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving.”

Dr. Rkemari lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply. Ms. Bourgannes, however, continued to console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.

In the evening, Dr. Rkemari and Dr. Arsala were able to be for half-an-hour by themselves; and Jenne instantly availed herself of the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Maraa was equally eager to satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful turn of events, which Jenne considered as all but certain, and Maraa could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued the subject, by saying, “But tell me all and everything about it which I have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel Faroukh say? Had they no apprehension of any arrangements between the two before their escape took place? They must have seem them together for ever.”

“Colonel Faroukh did own that he had often suspected some interest, especially on Ms. Lovage’s side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He was coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had any idea of their not being gone to Greatford: when that apprehension first got abroad, it hastened his journey.”

“And was Demorvan convinced that Owir was set on this scheme? Did he know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Faroukh seen Demorvan himself?”

“Yes; but, when questioned by him, Demorvan denied knowing anything of their plans, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not repeat his suspicions of the scheme—and from that, I am inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before.”

“And till Colonel Faroukh came himself, not one of you entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their being really connected?”

“How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt a little uneasy—a little fearful of my sister’s happiness with him in such an arrangement, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite right. The Professor and Dr. Mtepe knew nothing of that; they only felt how imprudent a match it must be. Ms. Bellamy then owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Loris’s last letter she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their making plans with each other, many weeks.”

“But not before they went to Europa?”

“No, I believe not.”

“And did Colonel Faroukh appear to think well of Owir himself? Does he know his real character?”

“I must confess that he did not speak so well of Owir as he formerly did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt; but I hope this may be false.”

“Oh, Maraa, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, this could not have happened!”

“Perhaps it would have been better,” replied her friend.

“But to expose the former faults of any person without knowing what their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions.”

“Could Colonel Faroukh repeat the particulars of Ms. Lovage’s note to his wife?”

“He brought it with him for us to see.”

Dr. Arsala then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Jenne. These were the contents:

“My dear Huan,

“You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Greatford, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world that interests me, and he is the cleverest of all the regiment. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at the station of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them and sign my name ‘Loris Lovage, President and CEO’. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Polkerris for not keeping my appointment, and meeting with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all; and tell him I will meet with him at the next conference we are at, with great pleasure. I shall send for my belongings when I get to the station; but I wish you would tell the sewbot to mend a great slit in my worked muslin coat before it is packed up. Good-bye. Give my regards to Colonel Faroukh. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

“Your affection friend,

“LORIS LOVAGE.”

“Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Loris!” cried Dr. Rkemari when she had finished it. “What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment! But at least it shows that she was serious on the subject of their journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a scheme of infamy. The poor Professor! how he must have felt it!”

“I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten minutes. Dr. Mtepe was taken ill immediately, and the whole department in such confusion!”

“Oh! Maraa,” cried Dr. Rkemari, “was there an orderly belonging to it who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?”

“I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is very difficult. Dr. Mtepe was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so much as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen almost took from me my faculties.”

“Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not look well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and anxiety upon yourself alone.”

“Suden and Kikkuli have been very kind, and would have shared in every fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either of them. Ms. Bellamy is slight and delicate; and Ms. Bourgannes studies so much, that her hours of repose should not be broken in on. Ms. Paâl came up from the hub on Tuesday, after Professor Bernabian went away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And Dame Ruminor has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters’, if they should be of use to us.”

“She had better have stayed at home,” cried Dr. Rkemari; “perhaps she meant well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too little of one’s colleagues. Assistance is impossible; condolence insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.”

She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her head of department had intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his student.

“He meant I believe,” replied Dr. Arsala, “to go to Epsom, the place where they last changed shuttles, see the postilions and try if anything could be made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the number of the coach which took them from Castalia. It had come with a fare from Ganymede; and as he thought that the circumstance of an officer and a scholar’s removing from one carriage into another might be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Castalia. If he could anyhow discover at what part of town the coachman had before set down his fare, he determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding out even so much as this.”


	48. Chapter 48

The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Professor Bernabian the next morning, but the transmission arrived without bringing a single line from him. His colleagues knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude that he had no using intelligence to send; but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Esakia had waited only for the arrival before he made his way to the docking bay.

When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant information of what was going on, and the good man promised, at parting, to prevail on Professor Bernabian to return to the station, as soon as he could, to the great consolation of Dr. Mtepe, who considered it as the only security for her head of department not being embroiled in lawsuit.

Dr. Esakia was to remain on the station for a week longer, as she thought her presence might be serviceable to Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari. She shared in their attendance on Dr. Mtepe, and was a great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Ms. Paâl also visited them frequently from the hub, and always, as she said, with the design of cheering and heartening them up—though, as she never came without reporting some fresh instance of Owir’s intransigence or irregularity, she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found them.

All the station seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt to every merchant in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman’s family. Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the appearance of his goodness. Dr. Rkemari, though she did not credit above half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of her friend’s ruin more certain; and even Dr. Arsala, who believed still less of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come when, if they had gone to Greatfort, which she had never before entirely despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of them.

Mr. Esakia left the station on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife received a letter from him; it told him that, on his arrival, he had immediately sought Professor Bernabian, and upon finding him encouraged him to return to his house with him; that Professor Bernabian had been to Thrace and Castalia, before his arrival, but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now determined to inquire at all the principal cafes and loitering spots in the city, as the professor thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first arriving on Ganymede, before they made further arrangements. Mr. Esakia himself did not expect any success from this measure, but as the professor was eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that the professor seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave Ganymede and promised to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect:

“I have written to Colonel Faroukh to desire him to find out, if possible, from some of the young man’s intimates in the regiment, whether Owir has any relations or connections who would be likely to know in what part of the solar system he has now concealed himself. If there were anyone that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide us. Colonel Faroukh will, I dare say, do everything in his power to satisfy us us on his head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps, Dr. Rkemari could tell us what relations he has now living, better than any other person.”

Dr. Rkemari was at no loss to understand from whence this deference to her authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any information of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had never heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, both of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, that some of his companions in the regiment might be able to give more information; and though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application was a something to look forward to.

Every day in the department was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious part of each was when the radio post was expected. The arrival of messages was the grand object of every morning’s impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and every succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance.

But before they heard again from Mr. Esakia, a letter arrived for the head of department, from a different quarter, from Mr. Enok; which, as Dr. Arsala had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, she accordingly read; and Dr. Rkemari, who knew what curiosities his letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as follows:

“My dear Sir,

“I feel myself called upon, by my position with respect to your department, and in my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by letter. Be assured, my dear sear, that myself and the rest of the board sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable colleagues, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune—or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the most afflicting to a mentor’s mind. The death of your student would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose that this illegality of behaviour in your student has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence and a lack of proper training in ethical standards; though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Dr. Mtepe, I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Ms. Ruminor but likewise by Professor Deshpande and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one student will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Professor Chandra herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a department? And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been more deeply involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy student from your department for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense.

“I am, dear sir, etc., etc.”

Mr. Esakia did not write again till he had received an answer from Colonel Faroukh; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. It was not known that Owir had a single relationship with whom he kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. His former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he had been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore, who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Ms. Lovage’s connections, for it had just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a very considerable amount. Colonel Faroukh believed that more than ten thousand would be necessary to clear his expenses on Europa. He owed a good deal on Ganymede, too, but his debts of honour were still more formidable. Mr. Esakia did not attempt to conceal these particulars from the department. Dr. Arsala heard them with horror. “A gamester!” she cried. “This is wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it.”

Mr. Esakia added in his letter, that they might expect to see Professor Bernabian back at the station on the following shuttle, which was Saturday. Rendered spiritless by the ill success of all their endeavours, he had yielded to Mr. Esakia’s entreaty that he would return to his department, and leave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable for continuing their pursuit. When Dr. Mtepe was told of this, she did not express so much satisfaction as the others expected, considering what her anxiety for his activities had been before.

“What, is he returning then, and without poor Ms. Lovage?” she cried. “Sure he will not leave Ganymede before he has found them. Who is to sue Owir, and force him to make amends, if he comes away?”

As Dr. Esakia began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she should go to Ganymede, on the same shuttle that Professor Bernabian came from it on. Thus it was that as they greeted the return of their head of department, Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari at the same time bade farewell to their dear friend and kind mentor.

Dr. Esakia went away in all perplexity about Jenne and her Io friend that had attended her from that part of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her friend; and the kind of half-expectation which Dr. Esakia had formed, of their being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Dr. Rkemari had received none since her return that could come from the Pemberley lab.

The present unhappy state of the department rendered any other excuse for the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be fairly conjectured from that, though Dr. Rkemari, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she known nothing of Sustinh, she could have born the dread of Ms. Lovage’s infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, one sleepless night out of two. When Professor Bernabian arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him away, and it was some time before his students had courage to speak of it.

It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them for tea, that Dr. Rkemari ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, “Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”

“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” replied Dr. Rkemari.

“You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to fall into it! No, Jenne, let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.”

“Do you suppose them to be on Ganymede?”

“Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?”

“And Loris used to want to go to Ganymede,” added Kikkuli.

“She is happy then,” said the professor drily; “and her residence there will probably be of some duration.” Then after a short silence he continued:

“Dr. Rkemari, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.”

They were interrupted by Ms. Bourgannes, who came to fetch Dr. Mtepe more tea.

“This is a parade,” he cried, “which does one good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Ms. Bellamy runs away.”

“I am not going to run away,” said Kikkuli fretfully. “If I should ever go to Europa, I would behave better than Ms. Lovage.”

“You go to Europa. I would not trust you so near it as 624 Hektor for five hundred! No, Kikkuli, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into my office again, nor even to pass through the department. Lectures will be absolutely prohibited, unless you collaborate with one of the postdocs. And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.”

Ms. Bellamy, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to sniffle.

“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good student for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them.”


	49. Chapter 49

Two days after Professor Bernabian’s return, as Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari were walking together in the service corridor, they saw a serving bot coming towards them, and, concluding that they were summoned back to Dr. Mtepe, went forward to meet it; but, instead of the expected summons, when they approached, it gave a message for Dr. Arsala, begging pardon for the interruption first, “An express has come for the professor from Mr. Esakia.”

Away ran the women, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They ran through the vestibule into the common room; from thence to the library; the professor was in neither; and they were on the point of seeking him in his office, when they were met by another serving bot, who said:

“If you are looking for my master, he is walking towards the little docking bay.”

Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once more, and ran across the hall after the professor, who was deliberately pursuing his way towards the antechamber on one side of the dock.

Dr. Arsala, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as Dr. Rkemari, soon lagged behind, while her friend, panting for breath, came up with him, and eagerly cried out:

“Oh, professor, what news—what news? Have you heard from Mr. Esakia?”

“Yes I have had a letter from him by express.”

“Well, and what news does it bring—good or bad?”

“What is there of good to be expected?” said he, taking the brief from his pocket. “But perhaps you would like to read it.”

Dr. Rkemari impatiently caught it from his hand. Dr. Arsala now came up.

“Read it aloud,” said the professor, “for I hardly know myself what it is about.”

“My dear Professor Bernabian,

“At last I am able to send you some tidings of Ms. Lovage, and such as, upon the whole, I hope it will give you satisfaction. Soon after you left me on the last shuttle, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of Ganymede they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet; it is enough to know they are discovered. I have seen them both—”

“Then it is as I always hoped!” cried Maraa.

Dr. Rkemari read on:

“I have seen them both. They are not to return, nor can I find there was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will not be long before they are settled in a proper and legal station. All that is required of you is, to assure to Ms. Lovage that she shall obtain a passing mark on her final degree; that she shall have access to letters of good character and witness from yourself to any future employer she might seek to obtain; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your tenure, access to all support of the department as befits an honorary fellow. These are conditions which, considering everything, I have no hesitation in complying with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Owir’s intentions are not so lawless as they are generally believed to be. The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to say there will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to invest in their venture, in addition to her own income. If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper contract. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming to Ganymede again; therefore stay quiet on the Meryton, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer as fast as you can, and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best that Ms. Lovage should remain in this house for the time being, of which I hope you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as anything more is determined on. Yours, etc.,

“UNWIN ESAKIA.”

“Is it possible?” cried Dr. Rkemari, when she had finished. “Can it be possible that their venture is a safe and legal one?”

“Owir is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him,” said Dr. Arsala. “My good professor, I congratulate you.”

“And have you answered the letter?” cried Dr. Rkemari.

“No; but it must be done soon.”

Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he wrote.

“Oh! my dear professor,” she cried, “come back and write immediately. Consider how important every moment is in such a case.”

“Let me write for you,” said Dr. Arsala, “if you dislike the trouble yourself.”

“I dislike it very much,” he replied; “but it must be done.”

And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the department.

“And may I ask—” said Dr. Rkemari; “but the terms, I suppose, must be complied with.”

“Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little.”

“And yet how it will reflect upon the department, for degrees to be sold in such a manner.”

“But so it must be. There is nothing else to be done. But there are two things that I want very much to know; one is, how much money Mr. Esakia has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am I ever to pay him.”

“Money! Mr. Esakia!” cried Dr. Arsala, “what do you mean, sir?”

“I mean that no man in his senses would make an investment of the sort he is reported to have made with Ms. Lovage, without some capital upfront to support it.”

“That is very true,” said Dr. Rkemari; “though it had not occurred to me before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! it must be Mr. Esakia’s doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.”

“No,” said the professor; “Owir’s a fool if he takes her with a sovereign less than one hundred thousand. I should be sorry to think so ill of him, in the very beginning of their relationship.” 

“One hundred thousand! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be repaid?”

Professor Bernabian made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continued silent till they reached the department. The professor then went on to the library to write, and the women walked into the common room.

“And they are really to be settled in business!” cried Dr. Rkemari, as soon as they were by themselves. “How strange this is! And for this we are to be thankful. That they should indulge in this venture, small as is their chance of happiness, and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Loris!”

“I comfort myself with thinking,” replied Dr. Arsala, “that he certainly would not have become involved in this if he had not a real regard for the project and for her assistance in it. Though Mr. Esakia has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that a hundred thousand, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has a business of his own. How could he spare half a hundred thousand?”

“If he were ever able to learn what Owir’s debts have been,” said Dr. Rkemari, “and how much is settled on his side on Ms. Lovage, we shall exactly know what Mr. Esakia has done for them, because Owir has not sixty of his own. The kindness of Dr. and Mr. Esakia can never be requited. Their takin her home, and affording her their personal protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is likely with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now, she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she first sees Dr. Esakia!”

“We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side,” said Maraa: “I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to go into business with her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of thinking. Their mutual interests will steady them; and I flatter myself they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in time make their past liberties and imprudence forgotten.”

“Their conduct has been such,” replied Dr. Rkemari, “as neither you, nor I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it.”

It now occurred to the women that Dr. Mtepe was in all likelihood perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library, therefore, and asked the professor whether he would not wish them to make it known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly replied:

“Just as you please.”

“May we take Mr. Esakia’s letter to read to her?”

“Take whatever you like, and get away.”

Dr. Rkemari took the letter from his writing-table, and they went to the library together. Ms. Bourgannes and Ms. Bellamy were both with Dr. Mtepe: one communication would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news, the letter was read aloud. Dr. Mtepe could hardly contain herself. As soon as Dr. Arsala had read Mr. Esakia’s hope of Ms. Lovage’s soon being in steady employment, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her prized student would be settled as an entrepreneur was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.

“My dear, dear Loris!” she cried. “This is delightful indeed! She will be well settled! I shall see her here often, I am sure! She will be settled, and before she even graduated! My good, kind friend dear Mr. Esakia! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Owir too! But the arrangements! I will write to my friend Dr. Esakia about them directly. Jenne, my dear, run down to the professor, and ask him how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Summon a bot, Kikkuli, I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear Loris! How merry we shall be together when we meet!”

The senior students endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. Esakia’s behaviour laid them all under.

“For we must attribute this happy conclusion,” she added, “in a great measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to assist Mr. Owir with money.”

“Well,” cried Dr. Mtepe, “it is all very right; who should do it but the husband of my own dear friend? If he had not had business of his own, then I am sure that he would have provided even more to establish Ms. Lovage, you know; as it is, this is the first interest that we have had from him! Well! I am so happy! In a short time I shall have a student established! How well it sounds! And she is still a term away from graduating. My dear Dr. Arsala, I am in such a lutter, that I am sure I can’t write; so I will dictate, and you write for me. We will settle with the professor about the money afterwards; but the things should be arranged immediately.”

She was then proceeding to all the particulars of stocks, bonds, and interest, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had not Dr. Arsala, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till the professor was at leisure to be consulted. One day’s delay, she observed, would be of small importance; and Dr. Mtepe was too happy to be quite so obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head.

“I will go to the hub,” said she, “as soon as I am able, and tell the good, good news to my friend Ms. Paâl. And as I come back, I can call on Dame Ruminor and Vice-Dean Yakamura. Kikkuli, run down and send a message that we are coming. An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Maraa, Jenne, can I do anything for you at the hub? Oh! Here comes the bot! And I am not yet ready to send my message!”

Dr. Rkemari, sick of this folly, took refuge in her own office, that she might think with freedom.

Poor Ms. Lovage’s situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could be justly expected for her colleague, in looking back to what they had feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had gained.


	50. Chapter 50

Professor Bernabian had very often wished before this period of his life that, instead of disdaining grants and scholarships, he had devoted part of his time each year to the application for funds for the better provision of his students, and of his department. He now wished it more than e er. Had he done his duty in this respect, Ms. Lovage need not now have been so indebted to a scoundrel such as Mr. Owir for whatever honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in the solar system to be her partner might then have rested in its proper place.

He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone should be forwarded at the sole expense of Mr. Esakia, and he was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could. When first Professor Bernabian had been promoted, economy was held to be perfectly useless, for, of course, the station was well funded and so were its departments. This support from the central administration was the means by which the accredidation board was assured of all requisite standards being met, and his post-docs and students would by that means be provided for. Twenty-five years successively followed during which the station’s income continued to decline, and with it support for the chemistry department; and Dr. Mtepe for many years refused to believe that their circumstances would not yet someday change. This event had at least been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving. Dr. Mtepe had no turn for economy, and the head of department’s love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.

Fifty thousand was settled by endowment on the department, but in what proportions it should be divided amongst the support of the department and its students depended on the will of the head. This was one point, with regard to Ms. Lovage, at least, which was now to be settled, and Professor Bernabian could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In terms of grateful acknowledgement for the kindness of Mr. Esakia, though expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed that, could Owir be prevailed on to withdraw from his illegal pursuits, it would be done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present arrangement. He would scarcely be a hundred a year the loser by the payment that was to be made to them; for, what with the general costs of tutelage and supplies,  
the education of a master’s student were very little within that sum.

That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was another welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports of rage which had produced his activity in seeking for her were over, he naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon dispatched; for, though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick in its execution. He begged to know further particulars of what he was indebted to his friend, but was too angry with Ms. Lovage to send any message to her.

The good news spread quickly through the department, and with proportionate speed through the university. It was borne in the latter with decent philosophy. To be sure, it would have been omre for the advantage of conversation had Ms. Loris Lovage come upon the station; or, as the happiest alternative, been secluded from society, on some distant asteroid. But there was much to be talked of; and the good-natured wishes for her well-doing which had proceeded before from all the spiteful old professors on the station lost but a little of their spirit in this change of circumstances, because with such a business venture her misery was considered certain.

It was a fortnight since Dr. Mtepe had addressed her duties; but on this happy day she again took her seat in her office, and in spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her triumph. The employment of a student, which had been the first object of her wishes for the last decade, was now on the point of accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those attendants of the new status that was to be bestowed upon her student, a fine office, steady income, perhaps a new phaeton. She was busily searching through the estate listings to find a proper situation for Ms. Lovage, and, without knowing or considering what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size or importance.

“The rooms on the east wing might do,” said she, “if the astronomers could quit it—or the great vaults on the third floor, if they had better offices; but Ganymede is too far off! I could not bear to have her off-station; and as for the old anthropology department, the storage space is dreadful.”

Her head of department allowed her to talk on without interruption while the students remained. But when they had all withdrawn, he said to her: “Dr. Mtepe, before you secure any or all of these departments for Ms. Lovage’s business, let us come to a right understanding. Into one department in this university she shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the impudence of either, by receiving them in this department.”

A long dispute followed this declaration; but Professor Bernabian was firm. It soon led to another; and Dr. Mtepe found, with amazement and horror, that her head of department would not advance a guinea to provide furnishings for his student. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of attention whatever on the occasion. Dr. Mtepe could hardly comprehend it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment as to refuse his student a privilege without which her employment would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe possible. She was more alive to the disgrace, which her want of new furnishings must reflect on Ms. Lovage’s new employment, than to any sense of shame at her pursuing her dubious ventures in the first place.

Dr. Rkemari was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of the moment, been led to make Dr. Sustinh acquainted with their fears for her colleague; for since her new job would so shortly give the proper termination of any other endeavours she might have pursued, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable beginnings from all those who were not immediately on the spot.

She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a colleague’s frailty would have mortified her so much—not, however, from any fear of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, there seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Ms. Lovage’s business engagements been concluded on the most honorable terms, it was not to be supposed that Dr. Sustinh would connect himself with a department where, to every other objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned.

From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his feeling on Io, could not in rational expectation survive such a blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.

What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now hae been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, there must be a triumph.

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would suit her most. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind must have been softened, his manners improved; and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

But no such happy arrangement could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their department. How Owir and Loris were to be supported in tolerable independence, she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could belong to two who were only brought together because their indulgences were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.

Mr. Esakia soon wrote again to Professor Bernabian. To the professor’s acknowledgements he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to promote the welfare of any of his associates; and concluded with entreaties that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. Owir had resolved on quitting the militia.

“It was greatly my wish that he should do so,” he added, “as soon as he received the necessary investments. And I think you will agree with me, in considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, obth on his account and on hers. It is Mr. Owir’s intention to settle his attention on his business endeavours; and among his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist him in the initial stages. He has the promise of funds from General —’s regiment, now quartered beyond Uranus. It is an advantage to have it so far from the ordinary route of the Meryton. He promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have written to Colonel Faroukh, to inform him of our present arrangements, and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Owir in and near Europa, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying out similar assurances to his creditors on the station, of whom I shall subjoin a list according to his information? He has given in all his debts; I hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, and all will be completed in a week. They will then take the next shuttle towards Uranus, unless they are first invited back to the station; and I understand from Dr. Esakia, that Ms. Lovage is very desirous of seeing you all before she leaves this part of the system. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered  
to you and her advisor.—Yours, etc.,

“U. ESAKIA.”

Professor Bernabian and his students saw all the advantages of Owir’s removal from the regiment as clearly as Mr. Esakia could do. But Dr. Mtepe was not so well pleased with it. Ms. Lovage’s being settled beyond Uranus, just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for she had by no means givenup her plan of her residing on the station, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a pity that Loris should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with everybody, and had so many favourites.

“She is so fond of Ms. Faroukh,” said she, “it will be quite shocking to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General —’s regiment.”

Ms. Lovage’s request, for such it might be considered, of being allowed to return to the station for her graduation before she set off towards Uranus, received at first an absolute negative. But Dr. Rkemari and Dr. Arsala, who agreed in wishing, for the sake of Ms. Lovage’s feelings and consequence, that she should be noticed on her achieving her degree by her department, urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her and her new partner on the station, as soon as they could arrive, that he was prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And Dr. Mtepe had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show off her favourite student before she was banished to Uranus. When Professor Bernabian wrote again to Mr. Esakia, therefore, he sent his permission for the to come; and it was settled, that as soon as space on a shuttle could be reserved, they should proceed to the Meryton. Dr. Rkemari was surprised, however, that Owir should consent to such a scheme, and had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would have been the last object of her wishes.


	51. Chapter 51

The day of Ms. Lovage’s return arrived; and Dr. Arsala and Dr. Rkemari felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. It was arranged for them to take the next shuttle, and they were to arrive by dinner-time. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder students, and Dr. Arsala more especially, who gave Ms. Lovage the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her friend must endure.

They came. The department was assembled in the common room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Dr. Mtepe as she heard footsteps in the hall; Professor Bernabian looked impenetrably grave; the students, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.

Ms. Lovage’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Dr. Mtepe stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to Owir, who followed his partner; and wished them both health and success with an alacrity which shewed no doubt of either.

Their reception from Professor Bernabian, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young entrepreneurs, indeed, was enough to provoke him. Dr. Rkemari was disgusted, and even Dr. Arsala was shocked. Loris was Loris still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from friend to colleague, demanding their congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.

Owir was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were always so pleasing, that had his character and his new arrangements been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed connection with them, would have delighted them all. Dr. Rkemari had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man. She blushed, and Dr. Arsala blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.

There was no want of discourse. Ms. Lovage and her mentor could neither of the talk fast enough; and Owir, who happened to sit near Jenne, began inquiring after his acquaintances on the station, with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Ms. Lovage led voluntarily to the subjects which her colleagues would not have alluded to for the world.

“Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away; it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of obtaining a job till I came back again and graduated! though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.”

Professor Bernabian lifted up his eyes. Maraa was distressed. Jenne looked expressively at Loris; but she, who never heard or saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, “Oh! Dr. Mtepe, do the people hereabouts know of my new job? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook Warden Gulbeke in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and called out the good news to him, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.”

Dr. Rkemari could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; and returned no more, till she heard the passing through the hall to the cafeteria. She then joined them soon enough to see Loris, with anxious parade, walk up to Dr. Mtepe’s right hand, and hear her say to Dr. Arsala, “Ah! Maraa, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a settled woman.”

It was not to be supposed that time would give Ms. Lovage that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Ms. Paâl, the Ruminors, and all their other colleagues and neighbours, and to hear herself congratulated by each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to boast of her new arrangements to Hardev and the orderlies.

“Well, Dr. Mtepe,” said she, when they were all returned to the common room, “and what do you think of my business partner? Is he not a charming man? I am sure my fellow students must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Europa. That is the place to do business. What a pity it is we did not all go.”

“Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Loris, I don’t at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”

“Oh, lord! yes;—there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all the things. you and the professor, and all my friends, must come down and see us. We shall be half-way to Uranus by winter, and I dare say I can arrange an employment fair, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.”

“I should like it beyond anything!” said her mentor.

“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of them behind you; and I dare say I shall get jobs for them before the winter is over.”

“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Jenne; “but I do not particularly like your way of getting jobs.”

Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Owir had reserved their shuttle spaces before he left Ganymede, and they were to reach their new station at the end of a fortnight. No one but Dr. Mtepe regretted that their stay would be so short; and she made the most of the time by visiting about with Ms. Lovage, and having very frequent guests in the department. These arrangements were acceptable to all; to avoid a close circle was even more desirable to such as did think, than such as did not.

Owir’s concern for Loris was just what Jenne had expected to find it; not equal to Loris’s for him. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their arrangement had been brought on by the strength of her interest, rather than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to go into business with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion.

Ms. Lovage was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Owir on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every thing best in the world; and she was sure he would discover more asteroids over the winter, than any body else on the station.

One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder friends, she said to Dr. Rkemari:

“Jenne, I never gave you an account of our new business, I believe. You were not by, when I told Dr. Mtepe and the others all about it. Are you not curious to hear how it was managed?”

“Not really,” replied Dr. Rkemari; “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.”

“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We registered the deeds, you know, at Anshar Sulcus, because Owir’s lodgings were in that region. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. Dr. and Mr. Esakia and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the clerk’s office. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was Dr. Esakia, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a research report. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Owir. I longed to know whether he should arrive in his blue coat.”

“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that Dr. and Mr. Esakia were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure Ganymede was rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, Mr. Esakia was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Subraman. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for he was to be my guarantor; and if we were beyond the hour, we would lose our appointment slot. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the appointment need not be put off, for Dr. Sustinh might have done as well.”

“Dr. Sustinh!” repeated Jenne, in utter amazement.

“Oh, yes!—he was to come there with Owir, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Owir say? It was to be such a secret!”

“If it was to be secret,” said Dr. Arsala, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”

“Oh! certainly,” said Dr. Rkemari, though burning with curiosity; “we will ask you no questions.”

“Thank you,” said Ms. Lovage, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Owir would be angry.”

On such encouragement to ask, Dr. Rkemari was forced to put it out of her power, by running away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Dr. Sustinh had been involved in the establishment of Ms. Lovage’s business. It was exactly a scheme, and exactly among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense; and hastily going to her computer, wrote a short letter to Dr. Esakia, to request an explanation of what Ms. Lovage had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.

“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Ms. Lovage seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.”

“Not that I shall, though,” she added to herself, as she finished the letter; “and my dear friend, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.”

Dr. Arsala’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Jenne privately of what Ms. Lovage had let fall; Dr. Rkemari was glad of it;—till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.


	52. Chapter 52

Dr. Rkemari had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it than, hurrying to her office, where she was least likely to be interrupted, she sat down in her rocking chair and prepared to be happy; for the size of the letter convinced her that it did not contain a denial.

“Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6.

“My dear friend,

“I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application; I did not expect it from you. Don’t think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Mr. Esakia is as much surprised as I am—and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit.

“On the very day of my returning to Ganymede from the station, Mr. Esakia had a most unexpected visitor. Dr. Sustinh called, and was shut up with him for many hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Esakia that he had found out where Ms. Lovage and Mr. Owir were, and that he had seen and talked with them both; Owir repeatedly, Loris once. From what I can collect, he left Io only one day after ourselves, and did so with a resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that Owir’s worthlessness had not been so well known as to make it impossible for any person of character to attach to or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he had another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days on Ganymede, before he was able to discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was more than we had; and the consciousness of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us.

“There was a woman, it seems, a Ms. Yman, who was some time ago a tutor to Ms. Sustinh, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large house in the Deney district, and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Ms. Yman was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Owir; and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he arrived. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Owir indeed had gone to her on their first arrival on Ganymede, and had she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction. He saw Owir, and afterwards insisted on seeing Ms. Lovage. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful scheme, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But he found Ms. Lovage absolutely resolved on staying where she was. She cared none for her friends and colleagues; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear of leaving Owir. She was sure that their business would be legally established some time or other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite such a time, which, in his very first conversation with Owir, he easily learnt had never been his design. He confessed hiself obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all ill-consequences of Ms. Lovage’s flight on her own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; and as to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on.

“Dr. Sustinh asked him why he had not file the proper paperwork at once. Though Professor Bernabian was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able to do something in the realm of investments for him, and his situation must have been benefited by such an arrangement. But he found, in reply to this question, that Owir still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune on some other planet or moon. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.

“They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Owir of course wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable.

“Everything being settled between them, Dr. Sustinh’s next step was to make Mr. Esakia acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Esakia could not be seen, and Dr. Sustinh found, on further inquiry, that the professor was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge Professor Bernabian to be a person whom he could so properly consult as Mr. Esakia, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business.

“On Saturday he came again. Professor Bernabian was gone, Mr. Esakia at home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together.

“They met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to the station. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Jenne, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak of it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), Mr. Esakia would most readily have settle the whole.

“They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last Mr. Esakia was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his wife’s friend, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due. But, Jenne, this must go no farther than yourself, or Maraa at most.

“You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds, another sum in addition to her own settled upon her, and all the paperwork filing charges to be dealt with. The reason why all this was to be done by him alone was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, to his pride, that Owir’s character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in this; though I doubt whether his reserve, or anyone’s reserve, can be answerable for the event. but in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Jenne, you may rest perfectly assured that Mr. Esakia would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for another interest in the affair.

“When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying on Io; but it was agreed that he should be on Ganymede once more, when all money matters were then to receive the last finish.

“I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Ms. Lovage came to us; and Owir had constant admission to the house. He was exactly what he had been, when I knew him earlier; but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if I had not perceived, by Dr. Arsala’s letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done, and all the unhappiness it had brought on her friends and colleagues. If she heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Jenne and Maraa, and for their sakes had patience with her.

“Dr. Sustinh was punctual in his return, and as Loris informed you, attended them to the filing office. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave Ganymede again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear Jenne, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were on Io. His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he is fortunate, a true friend will teach him someday. I thought him very sly;—he hardly mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion.

“Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from Io. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing. “But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour.

“Yours, very sincerely,

“E. ESAKIA”

The contents of this letter threw Jenne into a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what Dr. Sustinh might have been doing to forward her friend’s employment, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! He had followed them purposely to Ganymede, he had taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research, disrupting his own employment while doing so; in which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, and where he was reduced meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was a punishment to him to pronounce. He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her—for a woman who had already refused him—as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Owir. To be so connected to Owir! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked not extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and though she would not place herself as his principle inducement, she could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. The entire department owed the saving of Ms. Lovage, her character, every thing to him. Oh! how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For herself, she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion an honour, he had been able to get the better of himself. She read over her friend’s commendation of him again and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she and Mr. Esakia had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted between Dr. Sustinh and herself. She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by a knock on the door, and before she could reject the summons, Owir opened and entered.

“I am afraid I interrupt your solitary reflections, my dear friend?” said he, as he joined her.

“You certainly do,” she replied with a smile; “but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome.”

“I should be sorry indeed, if it were. We were always good friends; and now we are better.”

“True. Are the others soon at liberty?”

“I do not know. Dr. Mtepe and Loris are to attend on their friends at the hub. And so, my dear friend, I find, from Dr. and Mr. Esakia, that you have actually seen the Pemberley labs!”

She replied in the affirmative.

“I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much for me, or else I could take it in my way to Uranus. And you saw the old tourguide, I suppose? Poor Huan-Roh, she was always very fond of me. But of course she did not mention my name to you.”

“Yes, she did.”

“And what did she say?”

“That you were gone into the military, and she was afraid had—not turned out well. At such a distance as that, you know, things are strangely misrepresented.”

“Certainly,” he replied, biting his lips. Dr Rkemari hoped she had silenced him; but he soon afterwards said:

“I was surprised to see Sustinh on Ganymede last month. We passed each other several times. I wonder what he can be doing there.”

“Perhaps making arrangements with Ms. Deshpande,” said Dr. Rkemari. “It must be something particular, to take him there at this time of year.”

“Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were on Io? I thought I understood from the Esakias that you had.”

“Yes; he introduced us to his sister.”

“And do you like her?”

“Very much.”

“I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad you liked her. I hope she will turn out well.”

“I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.”

“Did you go by the village of Kympton?”

“I do not recollect that we did.”

“I mention it, because it is where my office would have been, had I received the scholarship I ought to have had. A most delightful place!—Excellent prospect and grounds! It would have suited me in every respect.”

“How should you have liked conducting research?”

“Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to repine;—but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The quiet, the seclusion of such a life would have answered all my ideas of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Sustinh mention the circumstance, when you were in Io?”

“I have heard from authority, which I thought as good, that the scholarship was provided you conditionally only, and at the will of the present board.”

“You have. Yes, there was something in that; I told you so from the first, you may remember.”

“I did hear, too, that there was a time, when quiet research was not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually declared your resolution of never joining academia, and that the business had been compromised accordingly.”

“You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it.”

They had now been conversing upwards of a quarter of an hour, and she was anxious to be rid of him; and unwilling, for her colleague’s sake, to provoke him, she said only in reply, with a good-humoured smile:

“Come, Mr. Owir, we are now connected with each other, you know. Do not let us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one mind.”

She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to look, and they left her office.


	53. Chapter 53

Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that he never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear friend Jenne, by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she had said enough to keep him quiet.

The day of his and Loris’s departure soon came, and Dr. Mtepe was forced to submit to a separation, which, as Professor Bernabian by no means entered into her scheme of their all going to Uranus, was likely to continue at least a twelvemonth.

“Oh! my dear Loris,” she cried, “when shall we meet again?”

“Oh, lord! I don’t know. Not these two or three years, perhaps.”

“Write to me very often, my dear.”

“As often as I can. But you know women in management have never much time for writing. My friends may write to me. They will have nothing else to do.”

Mr. Owir’s adieus were much more affectionate than his partner’s. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.

“He is as fine a fellow,” said Professor Bernabian, as soon as they were out of the house, “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor himself to produce a more valuable associate.”

The loss of her favourite student made Dr. Mtepe very dull for several days.

“I often think,” said she, “that there is nothing so bad as parting with one’s friends. One seems so forlorn without them.”

“This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of graduating a student,” said Dr. Rkemari. “It must make you better satisfied that your others are still unemployed elsewhere.”

“It is no such thing. Loris does not leave me because of her graduation, but only because her business arrangements happen to be so far off. If that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.”

But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an article of news which then began to be in circulation. The Netherfield lab orderlies had received orders to prepare for the arrival of the prizeholder, who was coming down on the next shuttle, to run some experiments for several weeks.

Dr. Mtepe was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Dr. Arsala, and smiled and shook her head by turns.

“Well, well, and so Dr. Gilborn is coming down, my friend,” (for Ms. Paâl first brought her the news). “Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to the lab, if he likes it. And who knows what may happen? But it is nothing to us. You know, my friend, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?”

“You may depend on it,” replied the other, “for Dr. Nijama was at the hub last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He comes down on the Thursday shuttle at the latest, very likely earlier. She was going to the commissary, she told me, on purpose to order some meat on Wednesday, and she has got three ducks just fit to be killed.”

Dr. Arsala had not been able to hear of his coming without changing her color. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to Jenne; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said:

“I saw you look at me to-day, Jenne, when Ms. Paâl told us of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don’t imagine it was from any silly cause. I was only confused for a moment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes a lone; because we shall see less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people’s remarks.”

Dr. Rkemari did not know what to make of it. Had she not seem him on Io, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with no other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial to her friend, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming there with his friend’s permission, or being bold enough to come without it.

“Yet it is hard,” she sometimes thought, “that this poor man cannot come to a lab which he has legally won, without raising all this speculation! I will leave him to himself.”

In spite of what her friend declared, and really believed to be her feelings in the expectation of his arrival, Dr. Rkemari could easily perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, more unequal, than she had often seen them. The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their superiors, about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.

“As soon as ever Dr. Gilborn comes, dear Professor,” said Dr. Mtepe, “you will wait on him of course.”

“No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I went to see him, he should employ one of my students . But it ended in nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool’s errand again.”

Dr. Mtepe represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to the Netherfield lab.

“’Tis an etiquette I despise,” said he. “If he wants our society, let him seek it. He knows where we are located. I will not spend my hours in running after my colleagues in other departments every time they go away and come back again.”

“Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait on him. But, however, that shan’t prevent my asking him to join us here, I am determined. We must have Vice-Dean Yakamura and the Gulbekes soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for him.”

Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear the professor’s incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her colleagues might all see Dr. Gilborn, in consequence of it, before they did. As the day of his arrival drew near,—

“I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,” said Dr. Arsala to her friend. “It would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. Dr. Mtepe means well; but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at the Netherfield lab is over!”

“I wish I could say anything to comfort you,” replied Dr. Rkemari; “but it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have always so much.”

Dr. Gilborn arrived. Dr. Mtepe, through the assistance of the wireless, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his arrival on the station, she saw him, from her office window, come down the hall-way and stride towards the house.

Her students were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Dr. Arsala resolutely kept her place at the table; but Dr. Rkemari, to satisfy Dr. Mtepe, went to the window—she looked,—she saw Dr. Sustinh with him, and sat down again by her friend.

“There is a gentleman with him, Dr. Mtepe!” said Kitty; “who can it be?”

“Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know.”

“La!” replied Kikkuli, “it looks just like that man that used to be with him before. Dr. what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”

“Good gracious! Dr. Sustinh!—and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of Dr. Gilborn’s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him.”

Dr. Arsala looked at Dr. Rkemari with surprise and concern. She knew but little of their meeting on Io, and therefore felt for the awkwardness which must attend her friend, in seeing him almost for the first time after receiving his explanatory letter. Both friends are uncomfortable enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their mentor talked on, of her dislike of Dr. Sustinh, and her resolution to be civil to him only as Dr. Gilborn’s friend, without being heard by either of them. But Jenne had sources of uneasiness which could not be suspected by Maraa, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Dr. Esakia’s letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. To Dr. Arsala, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive information, he was the person to whom the whole department were indebted for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an interest, it not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just as what Dr. Arsala felt concerning Dr. Gilborn. Her astonishment at his coming—at his coming to the lab, to their department, and voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered behaviour on Io.

The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure.

“Let me first see how he behaves,” said she; “it will then be early enough for expectation.”

She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her friend as the serving bot was approaching the door. Dr. Arsala looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate than Dr. Rkemari had expected. On the gentlemen’s appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance.

Dr. Rkemari said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She had ventured only one glance at Sustinh. He looked serious, as usual; and, she thought, more as he had been used to look on the station, than as she had seen him at the Pemberley lab. But, perhaps he could not in her mentor’s presence be what he was before her friends Dr. and Mr. Esakia. It was a painful, but not an improbable conjecture.

Gilborn, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Dr. Mtepe with a degree of civility which made her two students ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her curtsey and address to his friend. Dr. Rkemari, particularly, who knew that Dr. Mtepe owed to the latter the preservation of her favourite student from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.

Sustinh, after inquiring of he how Dr. and Mr. Esakia did, a question which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but it had not been so on Io. There he had talked to her friends, when he could not to herself. But now, several minutes elapsed without bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as often found him looking at Dr. Arsala as herself, and frequently on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry with herself for being so.

“Could I expect it to be otherwise!” said she. “Yet why did he come?”

She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to him she had hardly courage to speak. She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.

“It is a long time, Dr. Gilborn, since you went away,” said Dr. Mtepe.

He readily agreed to it.

“I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the university, since you went away. Ms. Ruminor is employed and settled. And one of my own students. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; though it was not put as it ought to be. It was only said, ‘Lately, Kerth Owir, Esq., with Ms. Loris Lovage,’ without there being a single syllable said of her institution, or of the place where she studied, or anything. It was my friend Esakia’s drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?”

Gilborn replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Dr. Rkemari dared not lift up her eyes. How Dr. Sustinh looked, therefore, she could not tell.

“It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a student well settled,” continued Dr. Mtepe, “but at the same time, Dr. Gilborn, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to Uranus, a place quite far from here, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know how long. His business is there; for I suppose you have heard of his leaving the militia, and of his being gone into the entrepreneurship. Thank Heaven! he has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves.”

Dr. Rkemari, who knew this to be levelled at Dr. Sustinh, was in such misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before; and she asked Gilborn whether he meant to make any stay on the lab at present. A few weeks, he believed.

“When you have settled all your own experiments, Dr. Gilborn,” said Dr. Mtepe, “I beg you will come here, and involve yourself in our projects as much as you please. I am sure we will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the write-ups for you.”

Dr. Rkemari’s misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt that years of happiness could not make Dr. Arsala or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion.

“The first wish of my heart,” said she to herself, “is never more to be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either one or the other again!”

Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing how much the wit and learning of her friend re-kindle the admiration of her former possible colleague. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her as clever as she had been last year; as good natured, and as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Dr. Arsala was anxious that no difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged, that she did not always know when she was silent.

When the gentlemen rose to go away, Dr. Mtepe Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at in the department in a few days time.

“You are quite a visit in my debt, Dr. Gilborn,” she added, “for when you went to Ganymede last winter, you promised to take a departmental dinner with us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your engagement.”

Dr. Gilborn looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.

Dr. Mtepe had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had a hundred thousand a year.


	54. Chapter 54

As soon as they were gone, Dr. Rkemari walked out to recover her spirits; or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that must deaden them more. Dr. Sustinh’s behaviour astonished and vexed her.

“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,” said she, “did he come at all?”

She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.

“He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to Dr. and Mr. Esakia, when he was on Ganymede; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will think no more about him.”

Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach of her friend, who joined her with a cheerful look, which showed her better satisfied with their visitors, than Jenne.

“Now,” said she, “that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintance.”

“Yes, very indifferent indeed,” said Jenne, laughingly. “Oh, Maraa, take care.”

“My dear Jenne, you cannot think me so grasping, as to be in danger of wrecked hopes again now?”

“I think you are in very great danger of making him as much interested with you as ever.”

They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Dr. Mtepe, in the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good humour and common politeness of Gilborn, in half an hour’s visit, had revived.

On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at the chemistry department; and the two who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as scientists, were in very good time. When they repaired to the common room, Dr. Rkemari eagerly watched to see whether Gilborn would take the place, which, in all their former encounters, had belonged to him, by her friend. Her prudent mentor, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to hesitate; but Dr. Arsala happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was decided. He placed himself by her. Dr. Rkemari, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that Gilborn had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes likewise turned towards Dr. Sustinh, with an expression of half-laughing alarm.

His behaviour to her friend was such, during dinner, as showed an admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded Dr. Rkemari, that if left wholly to himself, suitable arrangements between himself and Dr. Arsala would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in no cheerful huour. Dr. Sustinh was almost as far from her as the table could divide them. He was on one side of Dr. Mtepe. She knew how little such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and cold was their manner whenever they did. Dr. Mtepe’s ungraciousness, made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Dr. Rkemari’s mind; and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell him that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the department.

She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation than the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and uneasy, the period which passed in the common room, before the gentlemen returned from the lab, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. “If he does not come to me, then,” said she, “I shall give him up for ever.”

The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, where Dr. Arsala was making tea, and Dr. Rkemari pouring out the coffee, in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near her which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen’s approaching, one of the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper:

“The men shan’t come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; do we?”

Sustinh had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for being so silly!

“A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his attentions? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!”

She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying:

“Is your sister on Io still?”

“Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.”

“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?”

“Dr. Ahng is with her, that they may complete a paper together. The others have been gone on to the north, these three weeks.”

She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady’s whispering to Dr. Rkemari again, he walked away. When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the women all rose, and Dr. Rkemari was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to Dr. Mtepe’s rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.

Dr. Mtepe had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to supper; but they begged her leave to withdraw, citing the need to return to their lab, and she was unsuccessful in detaining them.

“Well, girls,” said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, “What say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well, I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The venison was roasted to a turn—and everybody said they never saw so fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the Ruminors’ last week; and even Dr. Sustinh acknowledged, that the partridges were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three Earth cooks at least. And, my dear Maraa, I never heard you speak more fluently. Vice-Dean Yakamura said so too for I asked her whether you did not. And what do you think she said besides? ‘Ah! Dr. Mtepe, we shall have her installed in the lab at least.’ She did indeed. I do think the Vice-Dean is as good a creature as ever lived—and her students are very pretty behaved girls, and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously.”

Dr. Mtepe, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of Gilborn’s behaviour to Maraa, to be convinced that she would get him at last; and her expectations of advantage for her prospects, when in a happy humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals.

“It has been a very agreeable day,” said Dr. Arsala to Dr. Rkemari. “The party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we may often meet again.”

Jenne smiled.

“Jenne, you must not do so! You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had any design of engaging my assistance. It is only that he is blessed with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally pleasing, than any other man.”

“You are very cruel,” said her friend, “you will not let me smile, and are provoking me to it every moment.”

“How hard it is in some cases to be believed!”

“And how impossible in others!”

“But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I acknowledge?”

“That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante.”


	55. Chapter 55

A few days after this visit, Dr. Gilborn called again, and alone. His friend had left him on the morning shuttle for Ganymede, but was to return to the station in a week or two thence. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably good spirits. Dr. Mtepe invited him to join them for lunch; but, with many expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.

“Next time you call,”said she, “I hope we shall be more lucky.”

He should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she would give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.

She suggested that tomorrow might be convenient.

Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was accepted with alacrity.

He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them were finished teaching. In ran Dr. Mtepe to Dr. Arsala’s lecture room, bursting in without any heed of whether she interrupted an important demonstration, crying out:

“My dear Maraa, make haste and finish up! He is come—Dr. Gilborn is come. He is, indeed, Make haste, make haste. Here, Sylvana, come to the front this moment, and take over the rest of this demonstration. Never mind the others.”

“I will be there as soon as I can,” said Maraa; “but I dare say Ms. Bellamy is forwarder than either of us, for she does not teach until the afternoon.”

“Oh! hang Kikkuli! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! Where is your bag, my dear?”

But when Dr. Mtepe was gone, Dr. Arsala would not be prevailed on to leave before she had completed her demonstration.

The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the evening. After the teaching day was over, Professor Bernabian retired to the library, as was his custom, and Sudan went back to her instruments in the lab. Two obstacles being thus removed, Dr. Mtepe sat looking at winking at Dr. Rkemari and Ms. Bellamy for a considerable time, without making any impression on them. Jenne would not observe her; and when at least Kikkuli did, she very innocently said, “What is the matter, Dr. Mtepe? What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?”

“Nothing, my dear, nothing. I did not wink at you.” She then sat still five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kikkuli, “Come here, Ms. Bellamy, I want to speak to you,” took her out of the room. Maraa instantly gave a look at Jenne which spoke her distress at such premeditations, and her entreaty that she would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Dr. Mtepe half-opened the door and called out:

“Jenne, my dear, I want to speak with you.”

Dr. Rkemari was forced to go.

“We may as well leave them by themselves you know;” said Dr. Mtepe, as soon as she was in the hall. “Ms. Bellamy and I are going up stairs to sit in the lab for awhile.”

Dr. Rkemari made no attempt to reason with her mentor, but remained quietly in the hall, till she and Ms. Bellamy were out of sight, then returned into the common room.

Dr. Mtepe’s schemes for this day were ineffectual. Dr. Gilborn was every thing that was charming, except for the professed employer of her student. His ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their company; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the placement officer, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command of countenance  
particularly grateful to the students.

He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Dr. Mtepe’s means, for his coming next morning to work in the lab with Professor Bernabian.

After this day, Maraa said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed between the friends concerning Dr. Gilborn; but Jenne went to bed in the happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Dr. Sustinh returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman’s concurrence.

Gilborn was punctual to his appointment; and he and Professor Bernabian spent the morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption or folly in Gilborn that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the other had ever seen him. Dr. Gilborn of course returned with him after lunch; and in the evening, Dr. Mtepe’s invention was again at work to get every body away from him and her student. Dr. Rkemari, who had a resubmission to work on, went into her office for that purpose after tea had been served; for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be wanted to counteract Dr. Mtepe’s schemes.

But on returning to the common room, when her revision had been sent off, she saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that Dr. Mtepe had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her friend and Dr. Gilborn standing together near the window, as if engaged in earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would have told it all. Their situation was awkward enough; but hers she thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and Dr. Rkemari was on the point of going away again, when Dr. Gilborn, who as well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few words to her friend, ran out of the room.

Dr. Arsala could have no reserves from Dr. Rkemari, where confidence would give pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.

“’Tis too much!” she added, “by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! why is not everybody as happy?”

Dr. Rkemari’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warm, a delight, which words could put poorly express. Every sentence of kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Maraa. But she would not allow herself to stay with her friend, or say half that remained to be said for the present.

“I must go instantly to Dr. Mtepe;” she cried. “I would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it from anyone but myself. He is gone to Professor Bernabian already. Oh Jenne, to know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all the department! how shall I bear so much happiness!”

She then hastened away to their mentor, who had purposely broken up the card party, and was sitting in her office with Ms. Bellamy.

Dr. Rkemari, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease with which the arrangements were finally settled, that had given them so many previous months of suspense and vexation.

“And this,” said she, “is the end of all his friend’s anxious circumspection! of Dr. Haity’s falsehood and contrivance! the happiest, wises, most reasonable end!”

In a few minutes she was joined by Dr. Gilborn, whose conference with the head of department had been short and to the purpose.

“Where is your friend?” said he hastily, as he opened the door.

“With Dr. Mtepe in her office. She will be down in a moment, I dare say.”

He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes and affection of a sincere friend. Dr. Rkemari honestly and heartily expressed her delight in the prospect of their connection. They shook hands with great cordiality; and then, till her friend came down, she had to listen to all he had to say about his own plans, and of Maraa’s many good qualities; and in spite of his indulgences, Dr. Rkemari really believed all his expectations of productivity and amiability to be rationally founded, because they had for basis the excellent understanding, and superexcellent disposition of Maraa, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and himself.

It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of Dr. Arsala’s mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as made her look handsomer than ever. Ms. Bellamy simpered and smiled, and hoped her turn was coming soon. Dr. Mtepe could not give her consent or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked to Dr. Gilborn of nothing else for half an hour; and when Professor Bernabian joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed how really happy he was.

Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he turned to his student, and said:

“Maraa, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.”

Dr. Arsala went to him instantly, shook his hand, and thanked him for his goodness.

“You are a good scientist;” he replied, “and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every student will take advantage of you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income.”

“I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be unpardonable in me.”

“Exceed their income! My dear Professor Bernabian,” cried Dr. Mtepe, “what are you talking of? Why, he has forty or fifty thousand a year, and very likely more.” Then addressing her student, “Oh! my dear, dear Maraa, I am so happy! I am sure I shan’t get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so clever for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when he first came onto the station last year, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh! he is the most excellent young man that ever was seen!”

Owir, Loris, were all forgotten. Dr. Arsala was beyond competition her favoruite student. At that moment, she cared for no other. The younger students began to make interest with her for objects of happiness which she might in future be able to dispense.

Ms. Bourgannes petitioned for the use of the library at the Netherfield lab; and Ms. Bellamy begged very hard for a few lectures there every winter.

Dr. Gilborn, from this time, was of course a regular visitor at the department; coming frequently early in the morning, and always remaining till after supper; unless when some barbarous experiment, which could not be enough detested, had given him cause to remain in his own lab for the span of a few hours or more.

Dr. Rkemari had now but little time for conversation with her friend; for while he was present, Dr. Arsala had no attention to bestow on anyone else; but she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hours of separate that must sometimes occur. In the absense of Dr. Arsala, he always attached himself to Dr. Rkemari, for the pleasure of talking of her; and when Dr. Gilborn was gone, Dr. Arsala constantly sought the same means of relief.

“He has made me so happy,” said she, one evening, “by telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being on Ganymede last spring! I had not believed it possible.”

“I suspected as much,” replied Dr. Rkemari. “But how did he account for it?”

“It must have been Dr. Haity’s doing. She and Ms. Huitace were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their friend is happy with me, they will learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we can never be what we once were to each other.”

“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said Dr. Rkemari, “that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Dr. Haity’s pretended regard.”

“Would you believe it, Dr. Rkemari, that when he went to Ganymede last November, he really intended to make me an offer of employment, and nothing but a persuasion that I would turn it down would have prevented his coming down again!”

“He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty.”

This naturally introduce a panegyric from Maraa on his diffidence, and the little value he put on his own good qualities. Dr. Rkemari was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, though Maraa had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him.

“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” cried Dr. Arsala. “Oh! Jenne, why am I thus singled from my department, and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another arrangement for you!”

“If you were to give me forty such jobs, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Enok in time.”

The situation of affairs in the chemistry department could not be long a secret. Dr. Mtepe was privileged to whisper it to Ms. Paâl , and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her neighbours on the Meryton.

The department speedily pronounced to be the luckiest in the world, though only a few weeks before, when Ms. Lovage had first run away, they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune.


	56. Chapter 56

One morning, about a week after Dr. Arsala’s contract with Dr. Gilborn had been arranged, as he and the members of the chemistry department were sitting together in the common room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the doorway, by the sound of a commotion in the hallway; and they perceived that some strangers had arrived. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the visages did not answer to that of any of their colleagues. No part of them were immediately familiar, at a glance, to any of them. As it was certain, however, that somebody was coming, Dr. Gilborn instantly prevailed on Dr. Arsala to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him to his lab. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three ocntinued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open and their visitor entered. It was Professor Chandra Deshpande.

They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Dr. Mtepe and Ms. Bellamy, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Dr. Remari felt.

She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other reply to Jenne’s salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down without saying a word. Dr. Rkemari had mentioned her name to Dr. Mtepe on the professor’s entrance, though no request of introduction had been made.

Dr. Mtepe, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Jenne,

“I hope you are well, Dr. Rkemari. That lady, I suppose, is your mentor.”

Dr. Rkemari replied very concisely that she was.

“And that I suppose is one of your department’s students.”

“Yes, madam,” said Dr. Mtepe, delighted to speak to Professor Deshpande. “She is our youngest student but one. Our youngest of all is lately graduated and employed, and our eldest is somewhere about the station, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon be intimately connected with us.”

“You have a very small department here,” returned Professor Deshpande after a short silence.

“It is nothing in comparison of Romulus Hall, my lady, I dare say; but I assure you it is much larger than Chancellor Weymuth Ruminor’s.”

“This must be a most inconvenient common room for the evening, in summer; the windows are full west.”

Dr. Mtepe assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then added:

“May I take the liberty of asking your good self whether you left Mr. Enok and Ms. Ruminor well.”

“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before I left.”

Dr. Rkemari now expected that she would produce a message for her from Reanne, as it seemed the only possible motive for her coming to the station. But no letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.

Dr. Mtepe, with great civility, begged the professor to take some refreshments; but Professor Deshpande very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Jenne,

“Dr. Rkemari, there seemed to be a hallway with a prettyish kind of art in it on the far side of the department. I should be glad to take a turn down it, if you will favour me with your company.”

“Go, my dear,” cried Dr. Mtepe, “and show the professor the different displays. I think she will be pleased with the collection.”

Dr. Rkemari obeyed, and running into her own office for her scarf, attended her noble guest down the hall. As they passed through it, Professor Deshpande opened the doors into the library and the kitchen, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walked on.

Her chaise remained at the door, and Dr. Rkemari saw that her waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the hall that led to the biology department; Dr. Rkemari was determined to make no effort for conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and disagreeable.

“How could I ever think her like her mentee?” said she, as she looked in her face.

As soon as they entered the art hall, Professor Deshpande began in the following manner:—

“You can be at no loss, Dr. Rkemari, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”

Jenne looked with unaffected astonishment.

“Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”

“Dr. Rkemari,” replied the professor, in an angry tone, “you ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such a moment as this, i shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me days before I left. I was told that not only Dr. Arsala was on the point of being most advantageously employed, but that you, that Dr. Jenne Rkemari, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united with my prized scientist, the best scientist, Dr. Sustinh. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.”

“If you believed it impossible to be true,” said Jenne, colouring with astonishment and disdain, “I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could you propose by it?”

“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”

“Your coming to the Meryton, to see me and my department,” said Dr. Rkemari coolly, “will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”

“If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?”

“I never heard that it was.”

“And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?”

“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with yourself. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”

“This is not to be borne. Dr. Rkemari, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has Dr. Sustinh, made you an offer?”

“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”

“It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his associates. You may have drawn him in.”

“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”

“Dr. Rkemari, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am quite the most important connection he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”

“But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit.”

“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Dr. Sustinh is to employ my daughter. Now what have you to say?”

“Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”

Professor Deshpande hesitated for a moment, and then replied:

“The arrangement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their undergraduate, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his supervisor, as well as of hers. While in the first stages of their studies, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both would be accomplished in their forming a partnership, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior education, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the departments of worth! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit engagement with Ms. Deshpande? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he was destined for my daughter?”

“Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my connecting with your student, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his supervisor wished him to join with Ms. Deshpande. You both did as much as you could in planning the arrangement. Its completion depended on others. If Dr. Sustinh is neither by honour nor inclination confined to Ms. Deshpande, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”

“Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Dr. Rkemari, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his colleagues or friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”

“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Dr. Rkemari. “But the partner of Dr. Sustinh must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Dr. Rkemari, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person’s whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

“That will make your situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me.”

“I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and Dr. Sustinh are formed for each other. They are educated, on both sides, at the same noble institutions; and, on his, mentored by respectable, honourable, and ancient tutors. Their fortunes on both sides are splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective universities; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without standing, connections, for grant money. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”

“In marrying Dr. Sustinh, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He has a PhD; I am educated to the same degree; so far we are equal.”

“True. You have received that honor. But who was your supervisor? Who is your head of department? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”

“Whatever my connections may be,” said Dr. Rkemari, “if Dr. Sustinh does not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”

“Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?”

Though Dr. Rkemari would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Professor Deshpande, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a moment’s deliberation:

“I am not.”

Professor Deshpande seemed pleased.

“And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?”

“I will make no promise of the kind.”

“Dr. Rkemari, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever receded. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require.”

“And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. You want Dr. Sustinh to form a partnership with your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make this desired outcome at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his attachment make him wish to bestow it on another? Allow me to say, Professor Chandra, that the argument with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked o by such persuasions as these. How far Dr. Sustinh might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject.”

“Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of your classmate’s infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man’s partnership with he was a patched-up business, at the expense of your head of department and his connections. And is such a girl to be associated with such a scientist as Sustinh? Is her partner, who is the son of his late supervisor’s steward, to be his associate? Heaven and earth!—of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

“You can now have nothing further to say,” she resentfully answered. “You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the department.”

And she rose as she spoke. Professor Deshpande rose also, and they turned back. The professor was highly incensed.

“You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my colleague! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?”

“Professor Deshpande, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.”

“You are then resolved to have him?”

“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”

“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.”

“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,” replied Dr. Rkemari, “have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my connection with Dr. Sustinh. And with regard to the resentment of his colleagues, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by his preference for me, it would not give me one moment’s concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join in  
the scorn.”

“And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Dr. Rkemari, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point.”

In this manner Professor Deshpande talked on, till they were at the door of the department, when, turning hastily round, she added, “I take no leave of you, Dr. Rkemari. I send no compliments to Dr. Mtepe. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.”

Dr. Rkemari made no answer; and without attempting to persuade the professor to return into the department, walked quietly into it herself. She heard the professor’s footsteps fade away as she proceeded to her office. Dr. Mtepe impatiently met her at the door, to ask why Professor Deshpande would not come in again and rest herself.

“She did not choose it,” said Dr. Rkemari, “she would go.”

“She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Ruminors were well. She is on a pilgrimage somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing near the station, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing particular to say to you, Jenne?”

Dr. Rkemari was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.


	57. Chapter 57

The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw Dr. Rkemari into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for many hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Professor Deshpande, it appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Phobos, for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed connection with Dr. Sustinh. It was a rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report of their partnership could originate, Dr. Rkemari was at a loss to imagine; till she recollected that his being the intimate friend of Dr. Gilborn, and her being the close colleague of Dr. Arsala, was enough, at a time when the expectation of one connection made everybody eager for another, to supply the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that her friend’s new job must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours the Ruminors, therefore (for through their communication with Ms. Ruminor, the report, she concluded, had reached Professor Deshpande), had only set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked forward to as possible at some future time.

In revolving Professor Deshpande’s expressions, however, she could not help feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of hre persisting in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to prevent their connection, it occurred to Dr. Rkemari that she must meditate an application to Dr. Sustinh himself; and how he might take a similar representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for the professor, or his dependence on her judgement, but it was natural to suppose that he thought much higher of the professor than she could do; and it was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of an arrangement with one, whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, she would address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would probably feel that the arguments, which to Dr. Rkemari had appeared weak and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.

If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so esteemed a superior might settled every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Professor Deshpande might see him on her way across the station; and his engagement to Gilborn of coming again to the Netherfield lab must give way.

“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his friend within a few days,” she added, “I shall know how to understand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.”

The surprise of the rest of the department, on hearing who their visitor had been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same kind of supposition which had appeased Dr. Mtepe’s curiosity; and Dr. Rkemari was spared from much  
teasing on the subject.

The next morning, as she was leaving her office, she was met by Professor Bernabian, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand.

“Jenne,” said he, “I was going to look for you; come into my room.”

She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to tell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might be from Professor Deshpande; and she  
anticipated with dismay all the consequent explanations.

She followed the professor to his lounge, and they both sat down. He then said,

“I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents. I did not know before, that I had two students on the brink of settling down. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.”

The colour now rushed into Dr. Rkemari’s cheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter from Dr. Sustinh, instead of Professor Deshpande; and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to herself; when the professor continued:

“You look conscious. Young women had great penetration in such matters as these; but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Enok.”

“From Mr. Enok! and what can he have to say?”

“Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with congratulations on the approaching employment of my senior student, of which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping Ruminors. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows: ‘Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Ms. Ruminor and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your student Dr. Rkemari, it is presumed, will not long bear her current affiliation, after her elder friend as resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonable looked up to as one of the most millustrious personages in the solar system.’

“Can you possibly guess, Jenne, who is meant by this? ‘This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing  
the heart of mortal can most desire,—splendid research facilities, prestigious colleagues, and extensive grants. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn Ms. Ruminor’s friend, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman’s proposals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.’

“Have you any idea, Jenne, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out:

“ ‘My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine that his patroness, Professor Chandra Deshpande, does not look on the match with a friendly eye.’

“Dr. Sustinh, you see, is the man! Now, Jenne, I think I have surprised you. Could he, or the Ruminors, have pitched on any man within the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more effectually to what they related? Dr. Sustinh, who never looks on an inferior but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It is admirable!”

Dr. Rkemari tried to join in the professor’s pleasantry, but could only force one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her.

“Are you not diverted?”

“Oh! yes. Pray read on.”

“ ‘After mentioning the likelihood of this partnership to the professor last night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some collegial objections on the part of Dr. Rkemari, she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to the young doctor, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily into an arrangement which has not been properly sanctioned.’ Mr. Enok moreover adds, ‘I am truly rejoiced that your student Ms. Lovage’s sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that the details of the early arrangement should be so generally known. I must now, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young people into your department as soon as they were established. It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of the university, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.’ That is his notion of forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Ms. Ruminor’s situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Jenne, you look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?”

“Oh!” cried Dr. Rkemari, “I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!”

“Yes—that is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man it would have been nothing; but his prefect indifference, and your pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate writing, I would not give up Mr. Enok’s correspondence for any consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference even over Owir, much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of my student’s newfound partner. And, pray, Jenne, what said Professor Deshpande about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?”

To this question his student replied only with a laugh; and as it had been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his repeating it. Dr. Rkemari had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried. Her head of department had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Dr. Sustinsh’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.


End file.
